^^Hlmllli: 


WHERE  AMERI- 
INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 


I1  '"'  I 


^"'I'x^ili.i. 
.    .1     ,,•!....  \ 


JOHN    ADAMS 


WHEEE 

AMEKICAN  INDEPENDENCE 

BEGAN 

<©uimp,  ttg  famous  oBroiq)  of  ^atrtotjef; 
Cjjeir  SDeeo£,  l^ome^,  ano  SDegcenoantg 

BY 

DANIEL  MUNRO  WILSON 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

(£6e  fitoer^ibe  J9re$#,  Cambri&ge 

1902 


COPYRIGHT    1902    BY    DANIEL   MUNRO   WILSON 
ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  December,  iqos 


TO  MY  WIFE 
I  DEDICATE  THIS  BOOK 


PREFACE 

My  interest  in  the  eminent  men  and  women  who 
have  brought  renown  to  old  Braintree  and  Quincy 
increased  rather  than  diminished  with  the  pub- 
lication of  "  The  Chapel  of  Ease  and  Church 
of  Statesmen."  Continued  research,  as  far  as 
devotion  to  other  duties  permitted,  beguiled  me 
ever  more  along  the  line  of  the  development  of 
the  ideas  of  liberty  and  independence  as  illus- 
trated in  the  aspirations  and  deeds  of  Sir  Harry 
Vane,  the  Rev.  John  Wheelwright,  the  Hoars, 
the  Adamses,  the  Quincys,  and  the  Hancocks. 
Here  manifestly  was  a  story  of  patriotic  vision 
and  achievement  which  had  not  been  adequately 
told,  at  least  in  its  continuity  through  so  many 
successive  generations  of  the  leading  families. 
As  its  various  aspects  claimed  attention,  a  lecture 
or  an  article  was  written,  and  the  whole  finally 
wrought  into  the  shape  presented  in  these  pages. 
This  manner  in  which  the  book  grew  occasions 
a  few  repetitions;  but  these,  it  is  hoped,  will 
only  deepen  the  local  coloring. 


vi  PREFACE 

To  many  persons  I  am  indebted  for  gener- 
ous cooperation,  and  eagerness  to  make  acknow- 
ledgment is  the  real  excuse  for  this  preface. 
The  writings  of  Charles  Francis  Adams  the 
younger,  especially  his  "  Three  Episodes  in 
Massachusetts  History,"  —  that  fascinating  nar- 
rative of  the  life  of  a  town  and  of  the  evolution 
of  a  State  in  one,  —  have  afforded  a  wealth  of 
facts  and  suggestions.  Mrs.  Sarah  H.  Swan's 
too  brief  "  Story  of  an  Old  House,"  published  in 
the  "  New  England  Magazine,"  yielded  helpful 
material ;  and  the  researches  of  Mr.  Lewis  Bass 
and  Mr.  Edwin  W.  Marsh  of  Quincy,  two  "  of 
the  few  remaining  specimens  of  the  antique 
stock,"  profited  me  much.  Through  the  courtesy 
of  Mr.  Adams,  Mr.  J.  P.  Quincy,  and  Miss  Alice 
Bache  Gould,  I  was  enabled  to  secure  photo- 
graphs of  treasured  portraits  which  appear  among 
the  illustrations.  To  Mr.  Fred  B.  Rice  and  Mr. 
Harry  L.  Rice  I  am  also  indebted  for  photo- 
graphs and  efficient  cooperation.  Foster  Bro- 
thers and  Mr.  C.  B.  Webster  of  Boston  kindly 
furnished  artistic  reproductions  of  portraits  and 
pictures  of  Quincy  homes  and  scenes  ;  the  "  New 
England  Magazine  "  cordially  permits  the  incor- 
poration of  the  article  on  Tutor  Flynt;  and  the 
Massachusetts  Historical  Society  generously  gave 


PREFACE  vii 

access  to  its  treasures,  so  well  represented  in  the 
sketches  of  Miss  Eliza  Susan  Quincy.       To  these 
and  all  others  who  rendered  assistance,  and  they 
are  many,  I  extend  my  most  grateful  thanks. 
Daniel  Munro  Wilson. 

Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  November,  1902. 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAOE 

I.   Freedom's  Heirs  and  Heritage         ....  1 

II.  License  before  Liberty 14 

IH.   Liberty  checked 27 

IV.  Judith  and  Joanna 42 

V.  The  Great  Advocate  of  Independence,  John  Adams  G2 

VI.   The  Puritan  President,  John  Quincy  Adams  .         .  10G 

VII.  Charles  Francis  Adams  and  the  War  for  the  Union  122 

VIII.  The  Colonial  Colonels 147 

IX.   Dorothy  Q.  and  Other  Dorothys     ....  191 

X.   Tutor  Flynt,  New  England's  Earliest  Humorist  228 

XL  Perambulation  of  Quincy 250 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

John  Adams.     By  Copley Frontispiece 

Original  in  Memorial  Hall,  Harvard  University. 
John  Hancock.    By  Copley 10 

Original  in  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston. 

Site  of  Anne  Hutchinson's  Farm 28 

Mouth  of  "Mount  Wollaston  River" 28 

Rev.  John  Wheelwright.    Artist  unknown 32 

Original  in  State  House,  Boston. 

First  Church  from  Old  Burying-ground 56 

Coddington's  Newport  House 56 

Birthplace  of  the  Presidents 68 

Sketch  hy  Miss  E.  S.  Quincv,  1822. 
Abigail  Adams.    By  Blythe 76 

Owned  by  the  Adams  family. 
Adams  Mansion  (Vassall  House)       98 

Sketch  by  Miss  E.  S.  Quincy,  1822. 
Quincy  Village 102 

Sketch  by  Miss  E.  S.  Quincy,  1822. 
John  Quincy  Adams.     By  Copley 108 

Original  in  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston.     Owned  by 
the  Adams  family. 
Louisa  Catherine  (Johnson)  Adams.    Artist  unknown   .    .    108 

Owned  by  the  Adams  family. 
Adams  Mansion 118 

From  a  recent  photograph. 
Drawing-room  in  Adams  Mansion 118 

Photographed  during  occupancy  of  C.  F.  Adams. 
Charles  Francis  Adams 122 

From  a  photograph. 
Abigail  Brown  (Brooks)  Adams.    By  W.  M.  Hunt    .    .    .     124 

Owned  by  the  Adams  family. 
John  Quincy  Adams „ 140 

From  a  photograph. 
Charles  Francis  Adams,  the  Younger 142 

From  a  recent  photograph. 
Charles  Francis  Adams,  2d 144 


xii  LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Abigail  Adams  of  to-day 144 

Older  Qi  una*  Mansion 148 

,1:  ,..i    EujiLNu  Qi  i.NCY.     By  Smibert 160 

Original  in  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston.    Owned  by  the 
Quinoy  family.      From  a  photograph  copyrighted  1897 
by  Foster  Bros. 
Older  Quin<  v  Mansion 162 

Sketch  by  Miss  E.  S.  Quincy,  1822. 
Edmund  Quincy 172 

From  a  portrait  owned  by  Mrs.  S.  Andrews  of  Roxbury. 
Elizabeth  (Wendell)  Quincy.     By  Smibert 172 

Owned  by  Mrs.  William  D.  Hodges. 
Colonel  Josiah  Quincy,  1709-84.     By  Copley 176 

Owned  by  Mr.  J.  P.  Quincy. 
Latek  Quincy  Mansion,  built  by  Colonel  Quincy 176 

Sketch  by  Miss  E.  S.  Quincy,  1822. 

Samuel  Quincy,  the  Tory.     By  Copley 178 

Josiah  Quincy,  Jr.     By  Stuart 180 

Original  in  the  Old  State  House,  Boston. 
President  Josiah  Quincy.     By  Stuart 182 

Original   in    the  Museum  of    Fine  Arts,  Boston.     From  a 
photograph  copyrighted  1897  by  Foster  Bros. 

Josiah  Quincy,  Mayor  of  Boston,  1846-48 186 

Josiah  Quincy,  Mayor  of  Boston,  1895-99 188 

"  Dorothy  Q."     Artist  unknown 204 

Owned  by  Justice  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

Dining-room  Older  Quincy  Mansion 212 

Dorothy  Hancock.     By  Copley 224 

Original  in  the  Mnseum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston.     Owned  by 
Mr.  Stephen  Bowen  of  Boston. 

"  Dorothy  Q."  of  to-day 226 

Tutor  Flynt 230 

From  an  oil  painting  presented  to  Harvard  College  in  1787. 
Tutor  Flynt's  Study 234 

Photographed  during  occupancy  of  Hon.  Peter  Butler. 

Tutor  Flynt's  Chamber 240 

Quincy  Centre 250 

Henry  H.  Faxon 254 

The  Abigail  Adams  Cairn 258 

Birthplace  of  President  John  Quincy  Adams    ....    258 

Residence  of  Mrs.  John  Quincy  Adams 262 

Quarries  of  the  Granite  Railway  Company 264 

Thomas  Crane 270 

Crane  Memorial  Hall 270 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS  xiii 

John  Alexander  Gordon,  M.  D 274 

Adams  Academy 276 

Presidents'  Lane 276 

Adams  Street 278 

City  Hospital 278 


WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPEN- 
DENCE  BEGAN 


FREEDOM  S    HEIRS    AND    HERITAGE 

American  independence,  still  the  latest  heroic 
achievement  of  humanity,  and  momentous  enough 
to  furnish  the  date  for  the  beginning  of  modern 
history,  presents  itself  to  the  ordinary  imagina- 
tion as  the  swift  and  common  aspiration  of  a 
united  people.  Popularly  it  is  supposed  that 
at  once  and  everywhere  throughout  the  thirteen 
colonies,  government  by  the  consent  of  the  gov- 
erned suddenly  flamed  wide  and  far  as  a  noble 
ideal  to  be  realized.  And  this  is  true,  in  the 
main,  if  we  regard  chiefly  the  armed  conflict, 
that  tragic  drama,  which  registered  the  height 
of  revolt  against  the  oppressive  measures  of  a 
mad  king  and  his  "  deluded  ministers."  Spon- 
taneous was  the  outburst  of  patriotic  valor  from 
the  river  St.  Croix  to  Florida. 

"  Don't  fire  unless  fired  upon !  "  cried  Captain 
Parker  as  the  British  regulars  deployed  before 
his  minute-men  on  Lexington  green,  "  but  if 
they  mean  to  have  war  let  it  begin  here."     And 


2     WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

"  begin  here "  it    did,    a  continent  in  arms  re- 
sponding to  its  first  volley. 

But  long  before  that  fateful  prelude  many 
of  those  who  now  rushed  to  arms  had  cherished 
the  thought  of  independence.  Although  not 
commonly  held,  it  was  in  the  air,  as  is  the  nature 
of  the  next  high  human  attainment,  fitfully  con- 
centrating in  regions  far  apart,  and  flashing  out 
in  electric  disturbances.  More  than  this,  it  may 
be  safely  asserted  that  in  certain  parts  of  the 
country  the  people  were  self-governing  from  the 
moment  they  set  foot  on  these  shores.  They 
would  abide  no  interference  with  their  "  just 
liberties,"  and,  as  Burke  said,  they  "  snuffed  the 
approach  of  tyranny  in  every  tainted  breeze." 
Independence  !  It  was  no  new  thing  to  them 
when  first  flung  as  a  battle-cry  in  the  face  of 
British  aggression  ;  they  had  never  been  any- 
thing but  independent.  True  are  the  words  of 
Mellen  Chamberlain,  who  writes,  "  The  mainte- 
nance of  independence,  rather  than  its  acquire- 
ment, originated  in  a  province,  but  at  length, 
and  mainly  through  the  influence  of  John  Adams, 
controlled  the  heart  of  the  continent."  To  the 
same  effect  is  the  utterance  of  John  Adams  him- 
self. Up  to  him  many  looked  as  to  the  source  of 
the  idea  of  American  self-government.  With  be- 
coming modesty,  as  well  as  conspicuous  wisdom, 
he  wrote,  "  Independence  of  English  Church  and 
State  was  the  fundamental  principle  of  the  first 


FREEDOM'S   HEIRS   AND   HERITAGE  3 

colonization,  has  been  its  general  principle  for 
two  hundred  years,  and  I  hope  now  is  past  dis- 
pute. Who,  then,  was  the  author,  inventor,  dis- 
coverer of  independence  ?  The  only  true  answer 
must  be,  the  first  emigrants." 

Of  New  England's  "  first  emigrants "  this  is 
especially  true.  Plymouth  colony  was  a  pure 
democracy  from  the  beginning ;  and  in  the  de- 
velopment of  the  Puritan  settlements  nothing 
is  more  marked  than  the  resolute  way  in  which 
unequal  laws,  favored  at  first  by  the  few,  were 
thrust  aside,  and  the  audacious  persistence  with 
which  all  interference  by  the  mother  country 
was  opposed.  The  old  ways  of  thinking  and  the 
habitual  deference  to  social  traditions  faded 
away,  now  that  they  were  removed  three  thou- 
sand miles  from  England,  and  left  them  free 
men  in  a  wide  world  where  only  what  was  free 
eventually  flourished.  Governor  Winthrop  and 
others  of  the  "  better  sort  "  brought  with  them 
remnants  of  the  rule  of  the  English  squirearchy. 
They  doubted  the  ability  of  the  common  people 
to  govern  themselves.  "  The  best  part  of  the 
people  is  always  the  least,"  was  the  sage  utter- 
ance of  Winthrop,  "  and  of  the  best  part  the  wiser 
is  always  the  lesser."  Soon,  however,  is  it  rue- 
fully noted  by  minister  Ward  that  "  the  spirits 
of  the  people  run  high  and  what  they  get  they 
hold."  In  town  meetings  (how  Jefferson  wished 
Virginia  had  them  in  the  hour  of  controversy  !  ), 


4    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

-where  all  had  equal  voice  if  not  equal  vote ;  in 
independent  churches,  where  differences  between 
"  brethren  "  gradually  disappeared  in  the  leveling 
sight  of  God,  they  exercised  the  natural  and  un- 
constrained rights  of  man.  What  to  them  was 
the  "  divine  right  of  kings,"  when  plain  men 
could  draw  their  laws  from  an  open  Bible  and 
their  manhood  direct  from  the  Almighty  ?  Thus 
it  was  that  supremacy  in  human  affairs  was 
shifted  from  the  hereditary  prince,  who  felt  him- 
self chosen  of  God,  to  farmers,  mechanics,  and 
tradesmen,  who  were  persuaded  they  also  had 
something  divine  in  them.  "  Kings  were  made 
for  the  good  of  the  people,"  declared  James 
Otis  in  1762,  "  and  not  the  people  for  them." 
Long  before  that  time  many  were  troubled  in 
their  minds  to  know  what  kings  were  made  for 
anyway. 

In  their  conflict  with  the  Crown  the  settlers 
modestly  claimed  only  the  rights  and  liberties 
of  Englishmen.  They  asked  for  no  more  ;  they 
would  be  contented  with  nothing  less.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  however,  they  enjoyed  a  degree 
of  freedom  far  beyond  the  dreams  of  the  Eng- 
lishman at  home.  But  they  had  one  thing  in 
common  with  the  men  over  sea,  —  a  boundless 
respect  for  law  and  written  documents.  So  be- 
cause they  had  a  king's  charter  with  a  big  seal, 
they  were  supported  in  their  belief  that  it  was 
only  the  ancient  liberties  of  the  mother  country 


FREEDOM'S   HEIRS   AND   HERITAGE  5 

for  which  they  were  contending-.  The  first  gen- 
eration had  not  passed  away  when  Governor  Win- 
throp  recorded  what  seemed  to  be  the  common 
opinion,  —  that  their  charter  endowed  them  with 
"  absolute  powers  of  government ;  for  thereby  we 
have  power  to  make  laws,  to  erect  all  sorts  of 
magistracy,  to  correct,  to  punish,  pardon,  govern, 
and  rule  the  people  absolutely."  That  charter 
was  a  miraculous  document.  There  was  not  any- 
thing in  the  way  of  human  rights  that  they  could 
not  jret  out  of  it.  As  Daniel  W.  Howe  writes 
in  "  The  Puritan  Republic,"  "the  colonists  viewed 
the  charter  granted  them  as  a  sort  of  compact 
guaranteeing  them  the  right  to  set  up  an  inde- 
pendent government  of  their  own."  Given  them 
by  Charles  I.,  they  quoted  it  against  Charles  II. 
They  openly  defied  that  "  Merry  Monarch  "  in 
his  occasional  attempts  to  seriously  play  the  king. 
They  were  actually  in  rebellion,  "  and  there  is 
not  the  slightest  doubt,"  says  Howe,  "that  they 
would  have  been  in  armed  rebellion  if  they  had 
felt  themselves  '  abel '  to  maintain  it  with  any 
assurance  of  success." 

What  the  colonists  were  interpreting  in  this 
momentous  controversy  was  not  the  charter,  but 
human  nature.  Our  ancestral  god  Thor,  in  his 
drinking  bout  with  the  giants,  imagined  he  was 
draining  only  the  great  horn  he  put  to  his  lips  ; 
but  the  horn  was  secretly  connected  with  the 
ocean,  and  it  was  the   universal  flood  he  was 


G    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

Btraining  to  drink  dry.  So  in  drawing  upon  the 
charter  for  their  liberties  the  men  of  Massachu- 
setts were  not  merely  exhausting  the  limited  ele- 
ments of  that  instrument :  they  were  imbibing 
principles  of  absolute  right  and  justice  from  that 
infinite  source,  the  aspiring  heart  of  man,  where 
the  divine  and  human  are  one.  Charles  II.  and 
his  ministers  looked  with  utter  amazement  and 
impatience  upon  this  performance,  and  when  the 
Massachusetts  General  Court  insultingly  delayed 
yet  again  to  send  agents  to  treat  of  our  "  patent 
liberties,"  sheltering  themselves  behind  the  ludi- 
crous excuse  that  "  proper  persons  were  afraid  of 
the  seas,  as  the  Turkish  pirate  had  lately  taken 
their  vessels,"  the  king  with  a  rough  hand  hur- 
ried the  decree  through  the  Court  of  Chancery 
which  forever  "  canceled  and  annihilated  "  the 
precious  charter.  Two  years  later,  in  1686,  the 
first  royal  governor,  Edmund  Andros,  arrived  in 
Boston.  Behind  him  was  the  undivided  power 
of  England  and  the  wrrath  of  the  narrow-minded 
James  II.  Resistance  was  useless.  Massachu- 
setts, with  a  contumaciousness  beyond  that  of 
every  other  province,  had  longest  resisted  the  im- 
position of  a  royal  governor.  Now  for  all  her 
braving  of  absolutism,  she  was  to  feel  the  full 
measure  of  oppression.  With  hardly  another 
privilege  left  them  than  "  not  to  be  sold  as 
slaves,"  her  people  lay  prostrate.  The  thing 
their  independent  spirits  had  feared  had  come 


FREEDOM'S   HEIRS   AND   HERITAGE  7 

upon  them.  In  bitterness  of  soul  they  meditated 
upon  it  —  and  waited.  When  time  should  serve 
they  would  rest  in  no  neglect  of  their  overlords 
across  the  sea  ;  they  would  trust  in  no  charter, 
in  no  word  of  a  king,  for  their  liberties.  Of  all 
these  limitations  they  would  free  themselves  when 
God  should  grant  them  opportunity.  The  mo- 
ment struck,  so  it  seemed  to  them,  when  in  the 
Revolution  of  1688  the  Stuarts  were  swept  from 
the  throne.  Andros  was  seized,  "  bound  in 
chains  and  cords,"  and  for  five  weeks  or  more 
a  Committee  of  Safety  carried  on  the  business 
of  government. 

But  the  end  was  not  yet.  Another  charter 
was  thrust  upon  them,  and  other  governors  were 
set  to  rule  over  them.  Not  as  in  the  days  of 
Andros  were  they  again  crushed  beneath  the  yoke 
of  ruthless  despotism.  Tyranny  became  trans- 
formed into  something  like  the  suzerainty  which 
modern  nations  conceive  may  be  in  keeping  with 
a  higrh  degree  of  civilization.  It  was  at  times 
quite  reasonable.  Indeed,  England  never  ex- 
ploited the  colonies  for  her  own  benefit,  if  we 
leave  out  the  colossal  selfishness  of  her  com- 
merce. The  "  taxation  without  representation  " 
was  to  raise  money  to  be  used  entirely  in  the 
provinces.  "  Not  a  farthing  was  to  leave  Amer- 
ica." Yet,  however  mild  the  rule,  it  was  not 
that  of  free  men  :  it  was  not  with  the  entire  con- 
sent of  the  governed.    Emanating  from  a  remote 


8    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

and  unsympathetic  source,  from  a  government  in 
which  they  had  no  representation,  from  the  will 
of  a  monarch  who  claimed  to  own  them  and 
their  lands,  it  was  in  the  nature  of  things  capri- 
cious. The  men  of  the  Bay  would  have  none 
of  it.  They  contested  every  measure  which  did 
not  originate  with  themselves.  While  some  of 
the  other  provinces  basked  contentedly  in  the 
smiles  of  the  royal  governors  and  "  far-off  splen- 
dors of  the  Crown,"  they  were  in  perpetual  con- 
flict with  Dudley,  Hutchinson,  and  the  rest. 
And  when  at  last  the  sternest  repressive  measures 
were  imposed  upon  the  colonists,  and  many  coun- 
seled submission,  the  stubborn  resistance  of  the 
patriots  of  Massachusetts  increased  in  sublimest 
proportion.  Even  Benjamin  Franklin,  acting  as 
commissioner  from  Pennsylvania,  acquiesced  in 
the  Stamp  Act  and  was  prepared  to  solicit  posi- 
tions of  stamp  distributors  for  his  friends  ;  but 
Boston  led  Hartford  and  other  places  in  the 
Puritan  colony  in  tumult  against  it. 

Thus  the  free  spirit  of  the  men  of  Massachu- 
setts, long  disciplined  in  a  strife  which  seemed 
discouragingly  unequal,  —  the  massive  weight 
of  old-world  absolutism  darkly  arrayed  against 
the  cherished  light  of  a  new-world  dawning, 
—  beckoned  the  heroic  road  to  armed  revolt. 
Resolutely  followed  the  other  colonists,  daring  all 
for  what  was  seen  to  be  the  common  cause,  re- 
sponding generously  with  that  "  swift  validity  in 


FREEDOM'S  HEIRS   AND   HERITAGE  9 

noble  veins."  It  was  the  test  of  American  man- 
hood and  ideals,  and  in  their  triumph  was  regis- 
tered the  faithfulness  and  valor  of  the  patriots. 
For  precisely  this  manifestation  of  worth  was 
waiting  the  next  disclosure  in  human  develop- 
ment. Thrilled  are  we  to-day  as  the  significance 
of  the  event  looms  large  in  the  expanding  power 
of  the  United  States,  whose  fame  and  conquests 
(alas,  that  they  are  not  all  peaceable  ! )  — 

"  shower  the  fiery  grain 
Of  freedom  hroadcast  over  all  that  orhs 
Between  the  northern  and  the  southern  morn." 

Independence  dowered  man  with  the  gift  of 
himself  —  with  the  right  to  be  himself  and  to 
express  himself.  For  all  time  now,  and  for  the 
multitude,  the  way  is  open  for  the  free  unfolding 
of  that  supreme  marvel  and  mystery,  man's  own 
being.  Robust  and  self-assertive  may  be  the 
manner  in  which  democracy,  in  these  too  strenu- 
ous days,  improves  its  chance.  It  is  life,  unmis- 
takably, free  and  aspiring  life,  with  the  moral 
ideal  for  permanent  law.  In  the  complete  liber- 
ation of  human  energy  which  almost  appalls  us; 
in  the  swift  gathering  of  immeasurable  forces; 
in  the  alignment  of  the  new  and  the  old  so  con- 
fusedly mingled,  we  may  still  see  the  command- 
ing power  of  America's  ideas  of  independence 
and  of  the  rights  of  man.  These  flung  into  the 
surging  advance  of  civilization  surely  must  in 
some  fateful  measure  order  its  course  and  sub- 
due its  turbulence. 


10    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDKl'KXDENCE  BEGAN 

But  obedience  to  the  best  for  which  the  fathers 
fought  halts  at  times  deplorably ;  sorrowfully 
we  are  all  saying  it.  Liberty  is  both  abused 
and  denied,  —  ideals  are  contemptuously  flouted 
by  brutal  greed  ;  the  people  are  exploited ; 
and  independence  won  in  the  political  field  is 
threatened  with  defeat  in  the  industrial  field. 
Too  new  are  the  far-reaching  commercial  and 
industrial  combinations  of  the  hour  for  us  to 
rightly  estimate  their  effect  upon  individual 
liberty.  Yet  we  surely  know  enough  to  realize 
that  we  have  entered  upon  the  next  great  phase 
in  the  evolution  of  society,  and  to  fear  that  under 
the  sway  of  vast  corporations,  both  legitimate 
and  buccaneering,  we  may  all  become  under- 
lings. 

"  And  we  petty  men 
Walk  under  his  huge  legs  and  peep  about 
To  find  ourselves  dishonorable  graves." 

The  situation  is,  in  its  intensity,  peculiarly 
American,  the  logical  outcome  of  our  first  vic- 
tory for  independence.  Here  human  energies 
were  earliest  liberated,  and  here  they  have  come 
to  their  most  amazing  development.  Our  in- 
dustrial leaders,  our  trust  magnates,  our  million- 
aires, are  they  not  of  the  people,  men  from  the 
ranks,  who  are  winners  in  a  game  the  most  of  us 
play  or  applaud  ?  The  sons  of  liberty  in  all 
this  Yankee  nation,  alert,  direct  in  methods,  are 
applying  the  marvels  of  their  inventive  genius 


JOHN  HANCOCK 


FREEDOM'S  HEIRS  AND  HERITAGE  11 

and  organizing  capacity  to  the  fecund  earth  and 
an  expanding  commerce,  in  a  passion  to  make  a 
living,  and  a  good  one.  The  resulting  opulence, 
grasped  at  by  most,  is  being  garnered  in  aston- 
ishing heaps  by  the  shrewd  and  enterprising.  A 
perilous  state  of  affairs,  we  say ;  but  is  it  not 
the  result  of  the  "American  idee:  to  make  a 
man  and  let  him  be  "  ?  And  is  not  the  situation 
relieved  somewhat  by  the  splendid  administra- 
tive ability  and  unprecedented  generosity  exhib- 
ited? We  seem  at  times  to  be  but  one  remove 
from  the  reign  of  the  ideal  captains  of  industry, 
who  will  consider  their  endowments  as  sacred 
as  those  of  prophet,  or  teacher,  or  Father  of 
his  country,  and  consecrate  themselves,  their 
methods,  and  their  opportunities  to  the  service 
of  their  race.  However  this  may  be,  the  way 
out  of  our  troubles,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say, 
will  be  won  by  the  same  free  energy  which  has 
brought  us  to  where  we  are,  —  that  is  indomitable. 
We  may  be  astounded  at  its  excesses ;  we  must 
marvel  at  its  possibilities.  Independence  jealously 
upheld  before  trusts  and  political  "  bosses,"  and 
unselfishly  communicated,  as  a  sacrament,  to  the 
nation's  wards  is,  as  John  Adams  prophesied  with 
his  parting  breath,  "  Independence  forever !  " 

In  no  other  community  in  the  colony  of 
Massachusetts  was  the  love  of  independence 
more  central  than  in  the  North  Precinct  of 
the  old   town  of    Braintree,  later   set   off   and 


12    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

Darned   Quincy.      Nowhere  else   was  the   right 

of  self-government  more  tenaciously  held,  and 
no  other  spot  is  more  sacredly  devoted  to  free- 
dom by  the  sacrifices  and  cherished  visions  of 
its  inhabitants.  So  typical  in  its  development 
that  C.  F.  Adams,  the  younger,  illustrates  by  it 
the  unfolding  thought  and  institutions  of  Massa- 
chusetts; it  is  also  renowned  for  anticipating  be- 
yond other  towns  the  manifest  destiny  of  the 
colonies.  There  the  word  Independence  had  its 
earliest  historical  utterance,  and  there  some  of 
its  most  illustrious  champions  had  their  origin. 

John  Adams,  the  great  advocate  of  inde- 
pendence, and  Samuel  Adams,  the  "  Father  of 
the  American  Revolution,"  had  in  Henry  Adams 
of  Braintree  the  same  progenitor.  They  were 
cousins  in  the  fourth  generation  from  that  "  first 
emigrant,"  Henry.  Though  Samuel  was  born  in 
Boston,  September  16,  1722,  he  was  so  closely 
associated  with  the  Braintree  cousins  and  so  allied 
to  them  in  the  essential  qualities  of  character 
that  it  is  not  2'oin<r  too  far  afield  to  include 
him  within  that  group  of  famous  persons  who 
made  the  annals  of  this  ancient  town  on  the 
south  of  Boston  so  memorable  with  their  high 
aspirations  and  devoted  patriotism.  These  two 
are  commanding  figures,  but  other  men,  sons  of 
old  Braintree  and  Quincy,  men  whose  names 
will  never  be  obliterated  from  the  splendid  page 
which    tells  the  story  of  the  Revolution,  stood 


FREEDOM'S   HEIRS   AND   HERITAGE  13 

with  them,  shoulder  to  shoulder  in  the  hour  of 
conflict.  We  have  but  to  name  the  Quincys  and 
John  Hancock,  to  indicate  their  high  character 
and  achievements.  Add  to  these  Abigail  Adams 
and  the  "  Dorothy  Q."  who  married  Hancock, 
and  there  is  presented  a  group  of  distinguished 
patriots  hardly  excelled  by  that  which  made 
famous  the  far  larger  town  of  Boston. 

In  the  aspirations  and  heroisms  of  that  little 
community  of  Braintree,  now  Quincy,  was  sur- 
prisingly manifested  the  genius  of  the  Ameri- 
can people.  There,  if  it  may  be  said  of  any  one 
place,  Independence  began.  Its  history  is  on  a 
small  scale  the  record  of  the  development  of  the 
ideals  of  the  Republic ;  its  great  citizens  in 
every  critical  period  devoted  themselves  with 
entire  unselfishness  and  telling  powers  to  the 
service  of  the  nation.  Few  towns  can  boast 
of  annals  more  brightly  colored,  not  only  with 
the  deeds  of  patriots,  but  with  the  surprises  of 
romance  ;  not  only  with  the  sturdy  enterprises 
of  plain  liberty-loving  farmers,  but  with  the 
debonair  discourse  and  activities  of  the  colo- 
nial gentility. 


II 

LICENSE    BEFORE    LIBERTY 

For  a  region  predestined  to  witness  the 
triumphs  of  sober,  industrious  men  and  women 
and  aspiring  patriots,  that  parcel  of  the  green 
earth  known  as  Quincy  presented  an  opening 
scene  so  ludicrous,  so  opera  bouffe  in  character, 
as  to  be  prophetic  of  everything  but  the  actual 
event.  A  set  of  scapegraces  possessed  it,  who 
played  out  their  fantastic  tricks  as  if  in  illustra- 
tion of  the  kind  of  people  from  which  no  great 
nation  can  originate.  Here,  between  serious 
Plymouth  on  the  one  side  and  Puritan  Boston 
on  the  other,  were  wildly  enacted  two  of  the  most 
"  singular  and  incongruous  episodes "  which 
light  up  New  England  history.  Sir  Christopher 
Gardiner,  Knight  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and 
his  "comly  Yonge  Woman  "  built  their  bower  on 
a  hummock  overlooking  the  Neponset  River,  se- 
curing a  retreat  only  too  transitory  from  inquisi- 
tive Boston  and  a  cold  world,  much  disturbed 
because  she  had  a  past,  and  he  lived  a  double 
life ;  and  little  more  than  a  mile  away  rises 
Mount  Wollaston,  that  opprobrious  hill,  that 
"  Mount  Dagon  "  (as  the  brethren  of  Plymouth 


LICENSE   BEFORE   LIBERTY  15 

and  Boston  united  to  call  it)  where  Thomas 
Morton  and  his  set  of  runagates  let  themselves 
loose  in  the  freedom  of  the  wilderness. 

Motley,  in  his  romance  of  "  Merry-Mount," 
and  Hawthorne,  in  his  "  Maypole  of  Merry- 
Mount,"  entertain  us  delightfully  with  the  ex- 
ploits of  Morton  and  his  fellows.  Grave  History 
herself,  in  the  "  Three  Episodes,"  while  trying 
to  tie  to  truth  the  untethered  imaginations  of 
the  romancers,  laughs  out  in  delight  and  derision 
as  she  contemplates  the  uncouth  hilarity  of  the 
rude  settlers  and  the  comedy  of  their  suppression 
by  Miles  Standish  and  Governor  Endicott.  Mor- 
ton deliberately  formed  a  band  of  free  compan- 
ions out  of  the  servants  of  Captain  Wollaston, 
who  in  1625  set  up  a  trading-post  on  the  shore. 
This  was  done  while  Wollaston  was  on  a  voyage 
to  Virginia,  where,  if  he  did  not  sell  anything 
else,  he  profitably  disposed  of  some  of  the  ser- 
vants, or  of  the  years  of  labor  yet  to  be  fulfilled 
according  to  the  bond  of  their  indentures.  Such 
a  procedure,  threatening  to  break  up  the  Massa- 
chusetts settlement,  troubled  Morton,  and  at  the 
same  time  furnished  him  with  an  argument  to 
win  the  assent  of  the  remaining  servants  to  the 
scheme  he  had  been  hatching.  He  was  an  ener- 
getic man,  a  leader  among  them,  being  one  of 
the  gentlemen  adventurers  who  had  planned 
the  expedition.  Withal  he  was  a  poet ;  that  is, 
a  good  enough  poet  to  throw  off  a  tavern  catch 


16     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

or  to  indite  a  dubious  ballad  to  the  barmaid, 
and  had  professional  training  sufficient  to  be 
scornfully  characterized  by  Governor  Bradford 
of  Plymouth  as  a  "  kind  of  a  pettifogger  of 
Furnevell's  Inne."  He  described  himself  as  "  of 
Clifford's  Inn,  Gent."  "This  man,"  writes 
Adams,  "  born  a  sportsman,  bred  a  lawyer,  in- 
grained a  humorist  and  an  adventurer,  by 
some  odd  freak  of  destiny  was  flung  up  as  a  waif 
in  the  wilderness  on  the  shores  of  Boston  Bay." 
It  was  in  the  fall  of  1626  that  Morton  induced 
the  few  unsold  servants  to  throw  off  all  allegiance 
to  Captain  Wollaston,  and  form  a  band  of  equals, 
with  him  at  their  head,  to  the  end  that  they 
might  get  all  profit  in  trade  with  the  Indians 
and  live  as  they  pleased.  So  it  came  about  that 
here  in  the  shade  of  the  solemn  woods,  here 
against  the  austere  background  of  Puritanism, 
was  exhibited  a  transplanted  bit  of  the  boister- 
ous animalism  of  the  unregenerate  Englishman 
of  that  day,  who  swaggered  as  kingsman  and 
cavalier  in  contemptuous  flouting  of  all  Round- 
heads and  sour  fanatics.  Here  were  "  cakes  and 
ale  "  for  all,  in  the  large  log  house  which  shel- 
tered them.  And  here  on  May  Day,  1627,  was 
set  up,  with  abundant  shouting  and  carousing,  a 
mighty  Maypole,  eighty  feet  high,  garlanded 
with  ribbons  and  surmounted  with  the  spreading 
antlers  of  a  buck.  Morton  was  "  mine  host  "  of 
the  occasion.     He  furnished  a  barrel  of  beer  and 


LICENSE   BEFORE  LIBERTY  17 

stronger  liquors  in  bottles,  and  affixed  to  the 
pole  a  poem,  which,  as  he  said,  "  being  Enig- 
matically composed,  pusselled  the  Separatists 
most  pittifully  to  expound  it."  A  song  he  made 
also  ;  and  at  the  psychological  moment  when  all 
had  joined  hands  about  the  Maypole  and  were 
warmed  with  drink,  a  tuneful  reveler  "  without 
any  mitigation  or  remorse  of  voice "  chanted 
the  staves,  the  rest  joining  with  ready  chorus. 
Around  it  and  around,  in  wild  whirling,  danced 
the  Bacchanals  and  the  "  lasses  in  beaver  coats." 
"  Drink  and  be  merry,  merry,  merry  boys,"  they 
sang,  and  the  forest  resounded  to  the  refrain, — 

"  Io,  to  Hymen  now  the  day  is  come  ! 
About  the  merry  May-pole  take  a  Roome." 

It  was  n't  puritanical.  The  scandal  of  it  amazed 
Plymouth  and  Salem.  To  be  sure,  Morton,  in  a 
serious  moment,  when  he  was  bidding  for  sup- 
port against  the  Puritans,  asserted  that  he  "  was 
a  man  that  endeavored  to  advance  the  dignity  of 
the  Church  of  England,"  and  wished  it  to  be 
understood  that  the  good  time  of  the  boys  was 
tempered  with  "  the  laudable  use  of  the  Book  of 
Common  Prayer."  Puritanism  was  all  the  more 
resolved  to  have  none  of  them,  and  a  little 
later,  when  they  imperiled  the  entire  colony  by 
selling  firearms  to  the  savages,  the  abolition  of 
misrule  was  no  longer  delayed.  Suddenly  Miles 
Standish  and  his  invincible  army  descended  upon 
Merry-Mount  and    captured   Morton ;   Endicott 


18     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

with  grim  promptitude  sailed  over  from  Salem 
and  hewed  down  the  Maypole  ;  and  finally,  when 
Morton  was  being  conveyed  in  a  vessel  to  Eng- 
land, events  were  so  timed  that  his  house  was 
burned  in  his  sight,  to  the  end  "  that  the  habi- 
tation of  the  wicked  should  no  more  appear  in 
Israel."  It  was  root  and  branch  work,  reso- 
lutely meant  to  be  such.  But  do  we  not  see,  by 
the  light  of  these  modern  days,  that  it  was  the 
Puritan,  for  all  his  assumed  dominion,  who  was 
the  sporadic  and  the  passing?  His  reign  is  over. 
It  is  now,  as  ever,  "  Drink  and  be  merry,  merry 
boys  !  "  Pleasure  is  in  the  saddle,  and  "  It 's 
ride  mankind ! " 

What  of  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner  all  this 
time,  that  gentle  knight  of  romance,  who  was  in 
the  very  storm  centre  of  this  raging  of  the  deep- 
est passions  of  the  human  heart  ?  He,  too,  was 
swept  from  his  chosen  retreat,  and  suffered  vicis- 
situdes as  surprising  as  any  that  had  hitherto 
befallen  him  in  his  adventurous  life.  His  "  coun- 
try seat  "  was  near  enough  Merry-Mount  for  him 
to  see  the  smoke  of  the  destruction  of  its  strong- 
hold, and  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely  that  he  often 
enjoyed  its  camaraderie  before  it  was  scattered 
up  and  down  the  coast  by  Miles  Standish.  As- 
sent is  to  be  yielded  to  Longfellow  when,  by  the 
lips  of  "  the  Landlord,"  he  says  that  Gardiner 
made  small  account  of  his  professions  to  join  the 
Puritan  church,  — 


LICENSE   BEFORE   LIBERTY  ID 

"And  passed  his  idle  hours  instead 
With  roystering  Morton  of  Merry-Mount, 
That  pettifogger  from  FurnivaPs  Inn, 
Lord  of  misrule  and  riot  and  sin, 
Who  looked  on  the  wine  when  it  was  red." 

Brief  was  the  knight's  sojourn  on  these  shores, 
but  there  is  no  doubt  that  every  moment  of  the 
time  he  was  an  object  of  absorbing  interest. 
He  arrived  here  in  April  of  1630,  about  a  month 
before  Winthrop  and  his  company  began  the 
settlement  of  Boston.  The  singularity  of  such 
a  hermit  in  the  wilderness  immediately  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  newcomers.  There  was  an 
air  of  mystery  about  him  ;  his  life  and  purpose 
were  not  above  suspicion.  Less  than  this  was 
enough  to  arouse  the  piercing  inquisitiveness  of 
the  Puritans.  Where  did  he  come  from  ?  Why 
was  he  here  ?  Who  was  the  "  comly  Yonge  wo- 
man "  with  whom  he  lived  ?  He  gave  it  out 
that  he  was  weary  of  life  in  the  Old  World,  su- 
perior now,  as  may  be  imagined,  to  its  sins  and 
vanities,  and  sought  for  himself  and  his  "  cousin, 
Mary  Grove,"  rest  in  the  peaceful  wilderness. 
How  touching  this  return  to  nature !  A  little 
worldly  pride  remained,  however,  —  blood  will 
assert  itself,  —  for  he  intimated  that  his  father 
was  brother  to  the  famous  Stephen  Gardyner, 
Bishop  of  Winchester  and  lord  chancellor  of 
Queen  Mary,  whom  Shakespeare  makes  Henry 
VIII.  describe  as  of  "  a  cruel  nature  and 
bloody."     Mr.  Adams,  in  his  careful  monograph 


20    WHERE  AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

on  Gardiner,  contests  so  close  a  relationship. 
It  is  evident,  he  admits,  that  he  was  a  man  of 
culture,  widely  acquainted  with  the  world,  and 
a  genuine  knight.  For  this  —  and  his  cousinly 
relations  —  he  certainly  deserved  the  distin- 
guished consideration  accorded  him  by  Governor 
Winthrop  and  the  other  Boston  magistrates. 

"  It  was  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner, 
Knight  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
From  Merry  England  over  the  sea, 
Who  stepped  upon  this  continent 
As  if  his  august  presence  lent 
A  glory  to  the  colony. 

"  You  should  have  seen  him  in  the  street 
Of  the  little  Boston  of  Winthrop's  time, 
His  rapier  dangling  at  his  feet, 
Douhlet  and  hose  and  boots  complete, 
Prince  Rupert  hat  with  ostrich  plume, 
Gloves  that  exhaled  a  faint  perfume, 
Luxuriant  curls  and  air  sublime, 
And  superior  manners  now  obsolete  !  " 

For  the  "  swasher  "  clothes  in  which  Lon£- 
fellow  arrays  the  knight,  the  Puritans  would 
have  no  regard.  They  scorned  with  more  than 
Carlyle's  bitterness  the  "  despicable  biped  "  who 
trusted  in  appearances  and  was  only  ornamental. 
So  when  the  shameful  news  came  from  England 
that  he  "  had  two  wives  now  living  at  a  house  in 
London,"  they  commended  their  prophetic  souls 
with  an  "  I  told  you  so,"  and  prepared  to  dis- 
cipline Gardiner  at  the  earliest  opportunity.  The 
two  wives   had   not  lived  long  together.     Con- 


LICENSE  BEFORE  LIBERTY  21 

tinuous  and  amicable  relations  are  not  usual 
with  such,  outside  of  Mormondom.  They  had 
just  foregathered.  The  first  Lady  Gardiner, 
whom  he  had  married  in  Paris,  hearing  he  had 
again  married  in  England,  hurried  over  in  search 
of  him.  But  she  came  too  late,  and  found 
only  the  second  Lady  Gardiner  anxiously  looking 
up  his  whereabouts.  Besides  betraying  and  de- 
serting her,  after  the  knightly  fashion  of  King 
Charles's  court,  he  had,  so  she  declared,  robbed 
her  of  "  many  rich  jewels,  much  plate,  and  costly 
service."  The  wives  joined  in  a  petition  that  he 
should  be  sent  back  to  England.  Wife  the  first 
still  loved  him  and  hoped  to  convert  him  ;  wife 
the  second  craved  his  destruction  and  a  chance 
to  express  her  mind  to  that  ordinary  wretch, 
Mary  Grove,  with  whom  he  was  now  living  in 
America. 

Gardiner,  suspiciously  alert,  caught  the  rumor 
that  the  news  of  his  double  life  was  circulating  in 
Boston  and  that  the  magistrates  were  likely  to  ap- 
prehend him.  Asa  matter  of  record  they  had  voted, 
summarily  and  regardless  of  anything  that  he 
might  say  in  his  own  defense,  to  send  him  a  pris- 
oner to  England.  From  his  home  on  a  woody 
hummock  on  the  south  of  the  Neponset  a  sharp 
lookout  was  kept  up  and  down  the  river,  and  at  the 
first  sight  of  the  officers  coming  to  arrest  him,  he 
was  off,  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder  and  "  rapier 
dangling  at  his  feet,"  and  away  into  the  wilder- 


22    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

ness.  Only  the  servants  and  Mary  Grove,  "  the 
little  lady  with  golden  hair,"  as  Longfellow  de- 
scribes her,  were  found  in  the  house.  Mary  was 
arrested,  and  when  brought  before  her  stern 
judges  quite  baffled  them,  so  "  impertinent  and 
close  "  was  she,  "  confessing  no  more  than  was 
wrested  from  her  by  her  own  contradictions." 
"  So,"  continues  Dudley,  "  we  have  taken  order 
to  send  her  to  the  two  wives  in  old  England  to 
search  her  further."  It  was  about  the  end  of 
March,  1631,  that  the  descent  was  made  upon 
Gardiner's  home,  and  for  a  month  or  so  he 
ranged  the  woods  in  the  mud  and  chill  of  New 
England's  early  spring.  Then  the  Indians,  in- 
cited thereto  by  the  governor  of  Plymouth,  cap- 
tured him  in  the  neighborhood  of  Taunton  River. 
"  When  they  came  near  him,"  wrote  Bradford 
in  his  "  Plimoth  Plantation,"  "  whilst  he  pre- 
sented his  piece  at  them  to  keep  them  off,  the 
streame  carried  ye  canow  against  a  rock,  and 
tumbled  both  him  and  his  pece  &  rapier  into 
ye  water ;  yet  he  got  out,  and  having  a  little 
dagger  by  his  side,  they  durst  not  close  with 
him,  but  getting  longe  pols,  they  soone  beat  his 
dagger  out  of  his  hand,  so  he  was  glad  to  yeeld ; 
and  they  brought  him  to  ye  Govr.  But  his 
hands  and  armes  were  swolen  &  very  sore  with 
ye  blowes  they  had  given  him.  So  he  used  him 
kindly,  &  sent  him  to  a  lodging  wher  his  armes 
were  bathed  and  anoynted,  and  he  was  quickly 


LICENSE   BEFORE   LIBERTY  23 

well  agayne,  and  blamed  ye  Indians  for  beating 
him  so  much.  They  said  that  they  did  but  a 
little  whip  him  with  sticks." 

The  Plymouth  people  passed  him  on  to  the 
Boston  magistrates,  together  with  a  "  little]  note 
booke  that  by  accidente  had  slipt  out  of  his 
pockett,  or  some  private  place,  in  which  was  a 
memoriall  what  day  he  was  reconciled  to  ye  pope 
&  church  of  Rome,  and  in  what  universitie  he 
took  his  scapula  and  such  and  such  degrees." 

Anticipate  now  what  measure  of  retribution 
would  be  meted  out  by  the  stern  Puritans  to  this 
dissembling  Catholic,  this  "  Snake  which  Lay 
Latent  in  the  Tender  Grass,"  this  faithless  hus- 
band and  violator  of  half  the  commandments.  He 
himself  looked  for  the  worst  they  could  do.  Did 
he  not  have  in  mind  all  they  had  wrought  upon 
Morton  ?  What  actually  ensued  is  the  surprise 
of  the  whole  episode,  and  the  closing  chapter  of 
his  New  England  experience  is  surely  one  of  the 
drollest  in  colonial  history.  Governor  Winthrop 
neither  disciplined  him  nor  sent  him  a  prisoner  to 
England,  but  used  "him  according  to  his  qualitie," 
and  gave  him  the  freedom  of  the  town.  He  was 
saved  by  the  mystery  attendant  upon  his  knightly 
presence  among  exiled  separatists  and  wild  sav- 
ages. This  they  could  not  quite  penetrate.  The 
"  woman  in  the  case  "  was  no  sufficient  explana- 
tion, and  they  had  respect  for  the  unknown 
which  yet  lurked  in  the  shadows  of  his  career. 


24    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

At  last  it  leaked  out  (they  intercepted  his  let- 
ters) that  he  was  the  secret  agent  of  Sir  Ferdi- 
nando  Gorges,  who  was  contesting  before  the 
Crown  the  right  of  the  Puritans  to  great  tracts 
of  land  north  of  Boston.  Now  that  the  heart  of 
his  mystery  was  plucked  out,  he  became  in  their 
eyes  a  poor  creature,  and  they  suffered  him  to 
go  up  and  down  as  he  pleased.  Like  another 
Sir  Philip  Sidney,  his  knightly  spirit  resorted  to 
poetry  to  relieve  the  tedium  of  exile.  Here  is  a 
poem  of  his,  composed,  as  Morton  ironically  ob- 
served, as  a  testimony  of  Gardiner's  "love  towards 
them  that  were  so  ill  affected  towards  him :  "  — 

"  Wolves  in  sheep's  clothing,  why  will  ye 
Think  to  deceive  God  that  doth  see 
Your  simulated  sanctity  ? 
For  my  part  I  do  wish  you  could 
Your  own  infirmities  hehold, 
For  then  you  would  not  he  so  hold. 
Like  Sophists,  why  will  you  dispute 
With  wisdom  so  ?     For  shame,  be  mute  ! 
Lest  great  Jehovah,  with  his  power, 
Do  come  upon  you  in  an  hour 
When  you  least  think,  and  you  devour." 

Through  the  summer  of  1631  he  lived  in 
Boston  and  at  his  home  on  the  banks  of  the  Ne- 
ponset,  and  then  in  the  month  of  August  he  was 
associated  once  more  with  Mary  Grove  in  a  man- 
ner eminently  proper  and  prosaic.  How  tragi- 
cally the  romancers  end  her  fateful  destiny  !  In 
"  Hope  Leslie  "  she  is  overcome  with  jealousy, 
sets  fire  to  a  barrel  of  gunpowder  on  board  a 
ship  in  Boston  Harbor,  and  in  a  moment  "  the 


LICENSE  BEFORE  LIBERTY  25 

hapless  girl,  —  her  guilty  destroyer,  —  his  vic- 
tim, —  the  crew,  —  the  vessel,  rent  to  fragments, 
were  hurled  into  the  air  and  soon  engulfed  in 
the  waves."  Motley,  in  "  Merry-Mount,"  brings 
her  to  despair,  in  which  mood  she  steals  from 
her  guardians  into  a  December  landscape,  where 
"the  driving  hurricanes  wrapped  her  as  she 
slept  in  an  icy  winding  sheet,  and  the  wintry 
wind  sounded  her  requiem  in  the  tossing  pine 
branches."  Then,  more  kindly,  Mr.  John  T. 
Adams,  in  his  "  Knight  of  the  Golden  Melice," 
sends  her  back  to  Europe  in  noble  company,  as 
befitted  one  highly  born,  to  end  her  days  peace- 
fully as  abbess  of  Saint  Idlewhim.  Lastly,  Whit- 
tier,  in  "Margaret  Smith's  Journal,"  confesses 
he  had  not  learned  what  became  of  Sir  Christo- 
pher and  the  "  young  woman  his  cousin,"  while 
Longfellow  melodiously  sings  that  the  governor 

"  sent  her  away  in  a  ship  that  sailed 
For  Merry  England  over  the  sea, 
To  the  other  two  wives  in  the  old  countree, 
To  search  her  further,  since  he  had  failed 
To  come  at  the  heart  of  the  mystery." 

But  what  are  the  facts?  Plain  as  the  unearthed 
bones  of  neolithic  man,  precious  to  science,  Mr. 
C.  F.  Adams,  the  younger,  spreads  them  before 
us  unadorned.  Thomas  Purchase,  a  pioneer  of 
Maine,  sailed  into  Boston  in  search  of  axes,  fish- 
lines,  etc.,  and  a  wife.  He  met  Mary  Grove,  who 
found  favor  in  his  eyes.  All  in  a  week  or  two, 
as  the  need  was,  he  courted  and  married  her, 


26    WHERE  AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

and  then  when  they  set  their  faces  eastward 
the  knight  himself  went  with  them.  What  sim- 
plicity and  artlessness  and  frank  abandon  of 
social  prejudices  !  It  was  all  proper  enough  — 
could  it  be  anything  else  with  the  Puritans  for 
sponsors  ?  And  how  deliciously  level  with  the 
elemental  needs  of  the  natural  man  !  He  needed 
shelter  and  comfort,  and  she  had  both  to  bestow. 
Their  home  was  in  that  part  of  the  Maine  plan- 
tations now  known  as  the  town  of  Brunswick 
and  celebrated  as  the  seat  of  Bowdoin  College, 
and  here  Gardiner  abode  till  midsummer  of  1632, 
when  he  returned  to  England. 

Only  one  trace  of  his  life  in  the  Purchase 
domicile  remains.  It  is,  however,  luminous. 
Nine  years  after  he  sailed  away  Thomas  Purchase 
was  compelled  by  the  court  to  pay  for  a  fowling 
piece  the  knight  had  bought  and  for  a  warming 
pan  he  had  borrowed  in  the  name  of  his  host. 
Most  strenuously  "  T.  Purchase  denies  ever  au- 
thorizing Sir  C.  Gardiner  to  buy  "  either  article ; 
but  poetic  justice  was  done.  The  cost  of  the 
warming  pan  which  comforted  the  first  partner 
of  Mary  Grove  came,  as  was  due,  from  the  pocket 
of  the  second  partner.  "  Considering  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  the  inclemency  of  the 
season  and  the  place  and  the  agency  through 
which  Sir  Christopher's  couch  had  been  widowed, 
the  intrinsic  justice  of  the  finding  is  apparent." 


Ill 

LIBERTY    CHECKED 

The  wilderness  was  left  once  more  to  its  sa- 
cred silences  and  the  summer's  monody  of  wind 
and  wave,  and  so  had  slept  for  four  years,  when 
the  men  of  serious  temper,  fit  founders  of  homes 
and  builders  of  states,  appeared  upon  the  scene. 
Most  of  them  migrated  from  Boston,  where  the 
earliest  settlers,  wrought  upon  by  the  keen  earth- 
hunger  of  the  Anglo-Saxon,  were  feeling  crowded 
on  their  three-hilled  peninsula.  Some  came  di- 
rectly from  ship  in  the  company  organized  by  the 
Rev.  Thomas  Hooker,  which  began  to  "  sit  down 
at  the  Mount,"  but  were  soon  ordered  elsewhere. 
Among  these,  it  is  probable,  was  Henry  Adams, 
with  his  large  family,  who  was  contented  to  abide 
on  the  beautiful  spot  where  first  he  had  erected 
his  rough  shelter.  Notable  has  he  become  as 
the  earliest  American  ancestor  of  the  Presidents. 
Interest  then  centred,  however,  upon  two  men 
who  were  among  those  of  most  consideration 
in  the  Boston  settlement.  Stout  William  Cod- 
dington  and  Edmund  Quincy  were  granted  large 
allotments  of  land  by  the  town  of  Boston  in 
1635,  and  they  now  sailed  over  to  "  the  Mount," 


28    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

where  Boston  "  had  enlargement,"  to  bound  out 
their  quite  baronial  acres.  Coddington  was  its 
treasurer,  builder  of  its  first  brick  house,  and  re- 
puted the  wealthiest  man  in  the  community;  while 
Quincy,  inheriting  name  and  blood  from  a  long 
line  of  gentle  ancestry  running  beyond  a  "  Sieur 
de  Quincy "  to  the  age  when  "  the  galloping 
Normans  came,"  was  respected  for  his  conspicu- 
ous intelligence,  constancy,  and  worth.  He  first 
came  to  Massachusetts  in  1628.  It  was  after  he 
returned  here  with  his  family,  September  4,  1633, 
that  he  formed  the  partnership  with  Coddington. 
Their  quality  commanded  the  pick  of  the  land. 
So,  as  the  shore  was  most  sought  after,  they  set 
their  bounds  from  the  old  Dorchester  line  at 
Squantum  southwardly  to  Hough's  Neck,  and  a 
mile  or  more  inland. 

Large  and  pleasant  and  fruitful  were  the  acres 
they  acquired.  Within  their  limits  were  the 
"  Massachusetts  Fields,"  the  home  and  plant- 
ing-ground of  the  tribe  of  the  Massachusetts, 
from  which  the  bay  and  later  the  State  were 
named.  The  crescent  shore,  shaded  by  the  pri- 
meval forests  to  the  wave-washed  sands,  more 
beautiful  even  than  now  delights  the  eye,  did 
woo  to  "  the  pleasing  content  of  crossing  the 
sweet  air  from  isle  to  isle  over  the  silent  streams 
of  a  calm  sea,"  as  that  earliest  of  its  explorers, 
Captain  John  Smith,  declared.  Inland  the  glori- 
ous landscape  mounted,  terrace  above  terrace,  to 
the  massive  summits  of  the  Blue  Hills. 


SITE    OF    ANNE    HUTCHINSON'S    FARM 


MOUTH   OF  "MOUNT  WOI.LASTON    RIVER" 


LIBERTY   CHECKED  29 

The  most  convenient  and  attractive  spot  for 
human  habitation,  in  all  this  wide  domain,  was 
carefully  sought  out  by  the  two  friends.  Just 
where  "  Mt.  Wollaston  river  "  ceased  to  be  nav- 
igable, and  the  clear,  fresh  waters  of  a  brook 
musically  mingled  with  the  brine ;  where  the 
land  lay  level,  easy  to  plough  or  to  build  upon, 
and  the  gleam  of  a  miniature  lake  was  seen 
through  the  trees,  they  ended  their  quest.  The 
treasurer  of  the  colony,  having  means  all  his 
own  (the  peculator  is  a  sport  of  recent  growth), 
was  the  first  of  the  two  companions  to  build 
a  farmhouse  by  the  a  sweet  murmuring  noise  " 
and  "  fine  meanders  of  the  brook."  We  are  quot- 
ing from  Morton  of  Merry-Mount,  whose  bac- 
chantic  joyousness,  as  we  must  say  to  his  praise, 
was  frequently  subdued  to  a  sympathy  with 
nature  wholly  modern.  Is  not  this  a  quite  sur- 
passing description  of  the  very  scenery  upon 
which  Coddington's  eye  fell?  —  "And  when  I 
had  more  seriously  considered  of  the  beauty  of 
the  place,  with  all  her  fair  endowments,  I  did 
not  think  that  in  all  the  known  world  it  could  be 
paralleled ;  for  so  many  goodly  groves  of  trees, 
dainty,  fine,  round,  rising  hillocks  ;  delicate  fair 
large  plains,  sweet  crystal  fountains,  and  clear 
running  streams  that  twine  in  fine  meanders 
through  the  meads,  making  so  sweet  a  murmur- 
ing noise  to  hear  as  would  even  lull  the  senses 
with  delight  asleep." 


30    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

This  infinite  loveliness,  the  blue  heavens  in 
their  clearness,  the  wine-like  tonic  of  the  air, 
the  wide  freedom,  were  now  Coddington's.  His 
was  the  rapture  which  visits  the  soul  of  every 
rightly  developed  man  who  ventures  into  virgin 
realms  of  the  palm  or  pine ;  his  "  a  melancholy 
better  than  all  mirth,"  as  in  that  solemn  wilder- 
ness he  founded  a  home  for  heart's  love  and  for 
a  fresh  start  for  humanity.  Directing  and  shar- 
ing the  labors  of  the  stout  craftsmen  who  sailed 
over  from  Boston  with  him,  he  experienced  the 
real  divineness  of  work  here  in  the  open,  in  the 
plenitude  of  God's  sunshine,  —  the  elements  in 
league  with  the  wit  of  his  brain  and  the  strength 
of  his  hand.  Toil  like  this,  which  means  adjust- 
ment to  nature,  not  triumph  over  prostrate  fellow 
beings,  makes  men.  What  are  we  making  in  this 
commercial  age,  with  its  sharp  competitions,  its 
smart  exploitations,  its  successes  which  dispense 
with  conscience  and  are  built  upon  defeat  and 
death  ?  Money,  delirious  amounts  of  it,  doubt- 
less, but  not  men,  —  not  what  in  the  sight  of 
heaven's  ideal  you  would  exactly  call  men. 

The  habitation  which  Coddington  then  built, 
about  1636,  still  stands.  It  is  not  large,  but 
throughout  it  shows  good  work.  The  carpenters 
luxuriated  in  the  abundance  of  timber,  and  sated 
their  honest  English  love  of  solid  construction 
by  using  a  superfluity  of  beams  a  foot  or  more 
in  thickness ;  and  there  they  are  to-day,  square 


LIBERTY   CHECKED  31 

hewed,  and  for  the  most  part  sound  and  hard  as 
iron.  In  plan  it  is  similar  to  a  second  house  Cocl- 
dington  built  in  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  in  1G39, 
the  year  after  he  was  driven  from  Massachusetts. 
Two  stories  and  an  attic  in  height  we  perceive  it  to 
have  been,  in  spite  of  later  alterations  ;  the  upper 
stories  overhanging  the  lower  one  in  front,  and 
the  bulky  chimney,  visible  on  the  outside,  filling 
up  almost  the  entire  breadth  of  the  west  end.  In- 
side, the  kitchen  or  general  living-room  was  almost 
co-extensive  with  the  entire  floor  ;  and  here  is  the 
capacious  open  fireplace  six  feet  high,  flanked 
by  the  roomy  brick  oven.  What  generous  living 
is  suggested  by  these  ancient  utilities !  Blazing 
logs  heaped  high  with  unstinted  hand,  homely, 
wholesome  fare,  making  the  strong  stronger, 
pleasurably  appeasing  appetites  made  keen  by 
natural  toil  under  the  open  sky  and  in  the  free, 
unpolluted  air.  As  Emerson  says  of  his  fellow 
campers  in  the  Adirondacks  :  the  plain  fare  after 
woodsman's  toil  "  all  ate  like  abbots." 

"  And  Stillman,  our  guides'  guide,   .  .  .  said  aloud, 
'  Chronic  dyspepsia  never  came  from  eating 
Food  indigestible  : '  —  then  murmured  some, 
Others  applauded  him  who  spoke  the  truth." 

In  the  second  story  were  two  chambers,  the 
chief  one,  with  fireplace  as  huge  as  that  in  the 
room  below,  reserved  for  Coddington.  He  never 
transferred  his  residence  to  "  the  Mount ;  "  this 
would  have  come  later.    Now,  when  his  oversight 


32     WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

was  needed,  he  left  his  brick  house  in  Boston 
and  stayed  at  the  farm.  Lawyer  Lechford,  who 
assisted  Coddington  to  dispose  of  his  estate, 
records  in  his  "  Note  Book  "  that  William  Tyng, 
the  purchaser,  stipulates  that  when  he  visits  the 
farm  he  "  shall  have  the  use  of  the  chamber 
which  Mr.  Coddington  used  to  lye  in  for  his 
lodging;." 

The  farm  was  generously  stocked  with  cattle, 
and  a  great  barn  was  built ;  but  Coddington 
was  drawn  thither  by  love  of  liberty,  as  well 
as  by  landlord  cares.  Here  with  his  compan- 
ions —  Sir  Harry  Vane,  William  Hutchinson, 
Rev.  John  Wheelwright,  Edmund  Quincy,  and 
many  another  —  he  held  high  debate  of  the  ways 
in  which  their  dearly  bought  freedom  should  be 
maintained  and  toleration  in  religion  be  secured. 
It  was  the  time  of  that  bitter  strug'2'le  in  which 
the  colony  was  so  early  involved,  misnamed  the 
"  Antinomian  controversy."  In  that  conflict, 
says  Adams,  the  nascent  commonwealth  was  con- 
fronted with  "  the  issue  between  religious  toler- 
ation and  compelled  theological  conformity." 
These  choice  spirits  met  from  time  to  time  in 
Coddington's  farmhouse.  Had  they  triumphed, 
our  modern  New  England  ancestor  worshiper 
might  now  have  an  ideal  to  adore  as  worthy  in 
all  respects  as  in  fond  imagination  he  paints  the 
Puritan.  Baptists  might  not  have  been  banished, 
Quakers  and  witches  might  not  have  been  done 


REV.    JOHN    WHEELWRIGHT 


LIBERTY  CHECKED  33 

to  death,  and  a  hundred  years  of  intellectual 
torpor  and  bigotry  might  not  have  blighted  the 
fair  promise  of  Massachusetts  history.  "  It  was 
plainly  a  period  of  intellectual  quickening,  —  a 
dawn  of  promise." 

A  woman  it  was,  vivacious,  witty,  ambitious, 
who  awoke  in  the  infant  colony  that  antagonism 
between  the  free  spirit  of  man  and  dull  formu- 
laries which  latent  or  active  is  present  in  every 
generation.  Mistress  Anne  Hutchinson,  con- 
tumeliously  snubbed  for  being  "  but  a  woman," 
was  at  first  commended  for  explaining  to  her  less 
enlightened  sisters  the  ponderous  sermons  of  the 
preachers.  Earliest  is  she  among  those  superfine 
and  audacious  reforming  intelligences  now  dis- 
tinguished as  "  the  Boston  woman,"  and  she  was 
the  first  to  gather  in  Boston  a  woman's  club. 
All  went  well  —  the  whole  church  flocked  to  her 
home  —  until,  feeling  that  in  this  new  land  she 
was  a  chartered  freeman,  she  uttered  without 
restraint  her  soul's  burden.  She  dared  to  speak 
"  thoughts  not  usual  among  us,"  and  actually 
had  the  effrontery  to  criticise  minister  Wilson 
and  some  other  case-hardened  clerics  for  being 
"  under  a  covenant  of  works."  Opposition  was 
aroused  and  sides  were  taken. 

At  this  juncture  there  arrived  in  the  colony 
the  Rev.  John  Wheelwright,  college  mate  of 
Oliver  Cromwell,  intrepid  of  speech,  compact  of 
the  stuff  martyrs  are  made  of.     Related  to  the 


34     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

Hutchinsons  by  marriage,  and  himself  a  free 
spirit,  he  at  once  zealously  espoused  the  cause  of 
the  liberals.  He  "was  a  minister  after  their  own 
mind,  and  they  were  swift  to  propose  that  he  be 
elevated  to  the  Boston  pulpit  alongside  Wilson 
and  Cotton.  Objections  were  raised.  A  pain- 
ful situation  impended  through  long  Sabbath 
debates,  which  was  relieved  finally  by  the  peti- 
tion of  the  residents  of  "the  Mount"  that 
Wheelwright  be  granted  them  to  gather  a 
church  there.  It  was  a  happy  inspiration  of  the 
liberal  leaders.  "  The  Mount "  was  their  elect 
settlement.  Besides  Coddington  and  Quincy, 
the  Hutchinsons  themselves  had  taken  up  farms 
here,  and  Atherton  Hough  —  a  magistrate  and 
man  of  wealth,  who  owned  the  neck  which  now 
bears  his  name — was  in  sympathy  with  them, 
and  Stout  Deacon  Bass  of  Roxbury  was  prepar- 
ing to  join  them.  Behind  this  group  and  rein- 
forcing it  was  a  wide  sprinkling  of  settlers,  — 
sturdy  yeomen  of  England,  selected  from  their 
fellows  by  freedom  and  a  sincerer  faith.  Some 
of  the  earliest  to  arrive  —  like  Henry  Adams 
—  were  of  Rev.  Mr.  Hooker's  company,  which 
landed  in  1632.  An  air  of  romance  and  fine- 
spun idealism  imparts  itself  to  the  movement  as 
one  thinks  of  the  interest  taken  in  it  by  young 
Sir  Harry  Vane,  at  this  time  governor  of  the 
settlement.  Said  Wendell  Phillips  in  one  of  his 
speeches :  "  Carlyle  admonished  young  men  to  lay 


LIBERTY   CHECKED  35 

aside  their  Byron  for  Goethe.  I  say,  lay  aside 
your  Luther  for  your  Harry  Vane."  Would  this 
youthful  ruler,  "young  in  years,  but  in  sage  coun- 
sel old,"  have  remained  in  the  New  World,  would 
he  have  taken  up  broad  acres  of  land  at  "  the 
Mount,"  thrown  in  his  fortunes  with  the  Quincys, 
the  Coddingtons,  the  Hutchinsons,  the  Adamses, 
if  the  liberal  movement  had  been  successful  ? 
It  is  not  improbable.  Vane  left  England  with 
the  serious  intention  of  uniting-  with  the  Puritans 
here  and  working  out  with  them  his  conceptions 
of  freedom  and  religion.  On  his  departure  a 
friend  of  his  father,  Mr.  Gerrard,  wrote  to  Lord 
Conway,  "  Sir  Harry  Vane  has  as  good  as  lost 
his  eldest  son,  who  is  gone  to  New  England  for 
conscience'  sake.  He  likes  not  the  discipline  of 
the  Church  of  England.  None  of  our  ministers 
will  give  him  the  sacrament  standing,  and  no 
persuasions  of  the  bishops  nor  authority  of  his 
parents  will  prevail  with  him.     Let  him  go  !  " 

Two  months  of  Wheelwright's  ministration 
had  hardly  elapsed  when  a  committee  of  eight 
with  Vane  at  their  head  "  was  chosen  to  consider 
of  Mt.  Wollaston  business  —  how  there  may  be 
a  church  and  town  there."  For  twelve  months 
from  December,  1636,  Wheelwright  labored  with 
these  congenial  spirits.  Manifestly  a  church 
after  the  new  way  of  toleration  and  expanding 
ideas  was  rooting"  itself  in  the  virgin  soil  of  the 
Puritan   settlement.     Worship  in   the  outset,  it 


36     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

may  be,  consecrated  the  Coddington  house,  and 
here  at  first  Wheelwright  may  have  lodged.  But 
early  in  the  spring  of  1637  a  meeting-house 
was  built.  Its  completion,  Adams  surmises,  may 
have  been  celebrated  on  May  24,  a  day  made 
a  fast  for  humiliation  and  conference  over  the 
deplorable  differences.  Vane  and  Coddington, 
grieved  and  indignant  at  the  harsh  measures 
of  the  conservatives,  turned  their  backs  on  this 
conference  and  kept  the  fast  with  Wheelwright 
at  "  the  Mount."  These  were  eventful  days. 
The  distractions  had  rapidly  culminated  almost 
to  armed  conflict. 

At  another  fast  a  few  months  earlier,  Wheel- 
wright had  preached  a  sermon  in  Boston,  in 
which  he  spoke  about  a  "  spiritual  combat "  and 
"  spiritual  weapons."  His  antagonists  affected 
to  believe  this  was  a  concealed  call  to  arms. 
They  spread  among  themselves  "  a  silent  de- 
cree that  Wheelwright  was  to  be  disciplined." 
There  wras  a  summoning  of  the  "  legalist " 
hosts  from  all  the  neighboring;  towns.  Minister 
Wilson  mounted  a  tree  and  harangued  the  vot- 
ers. Boston  was  outnumbered.  The  General 
Court  declared  Wheelwright  guilty  of  sedition ; 
Vane  was  defeated  for  governor  ;  Coddington 
and  Hough  were  put  out  of  the  magistracy. 
Is  it  to  be  wfondered  at  that  they  ignored  the 
conference  and  resorted  to  Coddington's  farm- 
house and  Wheelwright's  church  ? 


LIBERTY  CHECKED  37 

Later  Mrs.  Hutchinson  was  arraigned  for  the 
meetings  held  at  her  house,  —  "a  thing  not  toler- 
able nor  comely  in  the  sight  of  God  nor  fitting  for 
her  sex,"  —  and  banished.  Wheelwright,  "  like 
Roger  Williams,  or  worse,"  was  banished.  Their 
adherents  were  deprived  of  arms  and  otherwise 
treated  with  ignominy,  and  Coddington  fled  for 
freedom  to  Rhode  Island,  where  he  became  its 
first  governor.  Edmund  Quincy,  a  little  before 
this,  had  passed  from  earth.  Had  he  lived,  he  too 
would  have  been  forced  into  the  deeper  wilder- 
ness. As  for  Vane,  indignation  and  sorrow  con- 
tended in  his  heart  for  mastery.  The  cause  he 
loved  had  lost  its  fairest  opportunity.  He  himself 
was  wounded  in  the  house  of  his  friends.  Engf- 
land,  still  under  the  tyranny  of  Laud  and  Straf- 
ford, seemed  less  hostile,  and  thither  he  soon 
sailed.  Thus,  as  Mr.  Adams  feelingly  declares, 
"  Massachusetts  missed  a  great  destiny,  —  and 
missed  it  narrowly,  though  willfully.  It,  l  like 
the  base  Judean,  threw  the  pearl  away,  richer 
than  all  his  tribe.'  " 

So  ended  in  defeat,  in  heart  burnings  and  perse- 
cutions, those  aspirations  for  larger  liberty  which 
in  this  New  World  should  have  had  serene  and 
continuously  higher  fulfillment.  But  to  the 
sons  and  residents  of  old  Braintree  and  Quincy 
it  is  matter  for  congratulation  that  the  region 
comprised  in  their  limits  was  the  chosen  scene 
for  the  first  heroic  attempt  to  realize  the  freedom 


38    WHERE  AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

which  lay  implicitly  in  the  motives  of  the  "  first 
emigrants  ;  "  that  a  distinction  it  thus  early  ac- 
quired as  the  meeting  place  of  the  choice  spirits 
who  in  fullest  measure  embodied  the  free  in- 
tellectual activity  of  New  England  Puritanism. 
They  were  overwhelmed,  cruelly  despoiled,  dis- 
persed in  bitterest  winter  weather,  —  some  north 
to  the  Piscataqua  in  New  Hampshire,  some  south 
to  the  island  of  the  Narragansetts. 

Their  liberal  ideas,  however,  rooted  in  many 
souls,  remained  and  bore  fruit.  The  church 
which  in  1639  gathered  together  the  remnant  of 
Wheelwright's  "  Chapel  of  Ease,"  reinforced  with 
later  settlers,  exhibited  from  the  beginning  the 
characteristics  of  independence  and  open-minded- 
ness.  It  is  the  church  of  the  Adamses  and  of  the 
Quincys,  and  of  the  Hancocks  (father  and  son). 
As  early  as  1750  the  liberalism  of  it  is  self-con- 
scious and  aggressive.  The  Rev.  Lemuel  Briant, 
brilliant,  incisive,  progressive,  drew  down  upon 
himself — as  did  his  famous  predecessor,  minister 
Wheelwright  —  the  active  opposition  of  the  ultra- 
conservatives.  "  Had  he  lived,  he  might  have  held 
his  ground,  and  succeeded  in  advancing  by  one 
long  stride  the  tardy  progress  of  liberal  Chris- 
tianity in  Massachusetts."  He  neglected  to  teach 
the  children  of  his  parish  the  catechism,  prefer- 
ring plain  Scripture ;  he  was  guilty,  said  his 
opponents,  of  "  the  absurdity  and  blasphemy 
of   substituting  the   personal    righteousness   of 


LIBERTY   CHECKED  39 

men  in  the  room  of  the  surety-righteousness  of 
Christ ;  "  he  praised  moral  virtue ;  he  protested 
against  such  interpretation  of  the  Bible  as 
affronted  human  reason.  For  this  he  was  called 
"  Socinian  "  and  "  Arminian,"  and  a  council  of 
sister  churches  was  summoned  to  try  him.  With 
an  independence  almost  unheard  of,  he  slighted 
the  council  and  would  not  go  near  it.  But  as  it 
declared  there  existed  grounds  for  the  complaints 
against  him,  a  committee  of  his  own  church  was 
appointed  to  consider  the  matter.  Colonel  John 
Quincy  was  at  the  head  of  this  committee,  and  it 
reported  a  series  of  resolutions  which  may  fairly 
be  regarded  as  remarkable  for  the  times.  They 
were  adopted  by  almost  the  entire  church.  In 
these  resolutions  the  people  defended  their  pas- 
tor's use  of  "  pure  Scripture  "  instead  of  the 
catechism,  and  they  honored  the  right  of  private 
judgment,  commending  "  Mr.  Briant  for  the 
pains  he  took  to  promote  a  free  and  impartial 
examination  into  all  articles  of  our  holy  religion, 
so  that  all  may  judge  even  of  themselves  what 
is  right." 

Naturally  such  a  community  with  such  a  church 
became  the  cradle  of  American  Independence. 
John  Adams,  breathing  the  invigorating  air  of 
the  place,  is  talking  about  independence  at  the 
age  of  twenty,  and  is  the  flame  of  fire  ordained 
at  birth  to  kindle  the  heart  of  a  continent.  And, 
indeed,  we  might  go  still  farther  back  and  find  in 


40    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

the  utterance  of  a  Quincy  an  earlier  anticipation 
of  this  great  principle.  Miss  Eliza  Susan  Quincy 
quotes  from  a  letter  of  John  Wendell,  dated 
Portsmouth,  N.H.,  October  4, 1785,  to  this  effect : 
Edmund  Quincy,  who  died  in  1737,  on  being 
asked  "  how  soon  he  thought  America  would  be 
dismembered  from  the  mother  country,  replied 
that  if  the  colony  improved  in  the  arts  and  sci- 
ences for  half  a  century  to  come  as  it  had  for 
the  time  past,  he  made  no  doubt  in  that  time  it 
would  be  accomplished."  Held  as  a  speculation, 
a  vision,  in  times  of  England's  indifference  to  her 
colonies,  it  was  changed  to  a  passion  in  the  hour 
when  she  oppressed  them.  John  Adams,  a  month 
before  the  battle  of  Lexington,  might  truthfully 
say,  "  That  there  are  any  who  pant  after  inde- 
pendence is  the  greatest  slander  on  the  colony." 
None  "  panted  "  after  it,  —  the  issues  were  too 
serious,  the  stake  too  perilous ;  but  these  great 
leaders  were  familiar  with  the  thought,  and  when 
endurance  ceased  to  be  a  virtue  they  flung  it 
out  as  the  battle-cry  of  their  most  cherished 
hopes. 

Deep  rooted  in  a  noble  past  was  the  idea  of 
independence,  —  a  view  set  forth  by  Christopher 
Pearse  Cranch,  a  descendant  of  Richard  Cranch, 
brother-in-law  of  John  Adams,  in  a  poem  which 
he  wrote  for  the  two  hundred  and  fiftieth  anni- 
versary of  the  old  First  Church  :  — 


LIBERTY   CHECKED  41 

"  Our  fathers  sowed  with  stern  humility, 
But  knew  not  what  the  harvest  was  to  be. 
More  light,  they  said,  would  issue  from  God's  book, 
Not  knowing  't  was  the  deeper,  wiser  look 
The  soul  took  of  itself  that  gave  them  eyes  to  see. 
From  the  rough  gnarled  root  they  planted  here, 
Through  storm  and  sun,  through  patient  hope  and  fear, 
There  grew  a  fair  and  ever-spreading  tree, 
With  roots  fast  grappling  in  the  granite  rocks, 
Unharmed  by  cold  or  drought  or  tempest  shocks; 
Fed  by  the  sun  and  winds  and  seasons'  change, 
It  reared  its  trunk  serenely  tall  and  fair, 
Its  boughs  diverging  in  the  upper  air 

Of  thought  and  liberty, 
Loaded  with  leaves  and  blossoms  rich  and  strange, 
And  promise  of  a  fruitage  yet  to  be 

In  the  long  centuries  of  futurity." 


IV 

JUDITH   AND    JOANNA 

At  the  opening  of  the  quiescent  period  which 
followed  the  storm  of  persecution,  Judith,  the 
young  widow  of  Edmund  Quincy,  is  "  in  the 
wilderness  "  (so  runs  tradition's  phrase,  pathetic 
in  her  case),  holding  the  lands  allotted  to  her 
husband,  and  occupying  the  house  built  by  Cod- 
dington.  Not  immediately  upon  the  departure 
of  that  exile,  however,  did  she  make  her  home  at 
"  the  Mount."  The  sorrow  of  her  widowhood 
was  fresh  upon  her ;  the  children,  Judith  and 
Edmund,  were  quite  young ;  and  when  the  es- 
tate jointly  owned  by  herself  and  Coddington  was 
divided  she  lacked,  it  seems  likely,  the  means  to 
pay  for  the  improvements.  Captain  John  Tyng, 
Boston's  wealthiest  merchant,  was  the  purchaser 
of  the  farmhouse  and  barn  and  five  hundred 
acres  of  land.  Eventually  the  portion  which 
includes  Merry-Mount  passed  by  inheritance  to 
that  daughter  of  Tyng  who  married  Thomas 
Sheppard,  and  by  her  was  bequeathed  to  her 
grandson,  John  Quincy.  It  is  now  owned  and 
occupied  by  Mrs.  John  Quincy  Adams.  When 
it  was  that  the  home  farm  on  the  banks  of  the 


JUDITH  AND  JOANNA  43 

brook  was  acquired  by  Judith  Quincy  is  uncer- 
tain ;  but  it  is  not  long  before  we  note  that  her 
name  is  used  when  the  south  line  near  the  bury- 
ing ground  is  bounded,  and  that  the  brook  is 
changed  in  name  from  "  Coddington's  brook  " 
to  "  Quincy's  brook."  The  date  cannot  be  much 
later  than  1640,  —  the  year  when  "  the  Mount  " 
was  incorporated  as  the  town  of  Braintree,  and 
when  Henry  Adams  is  confirmed  in  the  occupancy 
of  forty  acres  of  land  for  "ten  heads"  on  Cap- 
tain's Plain.  Momentous  are  these  beginnings. 
Farther  back  in  time  we  may  trace  the  lines  of 
the  Adamses  and  the  Quincys,  but  here  in  the 
new  town  they  made  so  famous  there  is  a  fresh 
start,  and  through  the  years  that  follow,  the  inter- 
mingling generations  of  them,  responding  to  the 
highest  demands  of  patriotism  and  intellectual 
and  moral  progress,  exalt  all  that  is  best  in  social 
life  and  civil  government  by  an  endless  "filiation 
of  master  spirits." 

Judith  Quincy,  authentic  mother  of  a  crescent 
race,  and  in  the  dubious  day  of  small  things  its 
sole  counselor,  ranks  with  the  best  of  her  kind 
as  an  earthly  providence.  For  six  years  she  strove 
with  the  unfailing  strength  of  woman's  courage 
and  patience  to  keep  a  home  for  her  children,  and 
now  (about  1642),  when  the  elderly  Moses  Paine 
proposed  marriage,  she  accepted  him.  He  is  of 
Braintree,  the  possessor  of  many  broad  acres ; 
but  it  was  only  for  a  little  while  that  his  roof 


44    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

sheltered  them,  and  it  was  the  least  amount  of  his 
property  that  she  ever  enjoyed.  He  died  in  1643, 
leaving  half  his  estate  to  his  son  Moses,  a  quarter 
to  his  daughter  Elizabeth  (who  married  the  second 
Henry  Adams),  a  quarter  to  his  son  Stephen,  and 
the  remainder  to  his  wife  Judith,  —  to  be  exact, 
he  cut  her  off  with  twenty  shillings.  Thrifty 
were  some  of  those  old  settlers,  and  they  grudged 
parting  with  a  penny  to  any  but  blood  rela- 
tions. 

Was  it  now  that  Judith  and  her  two  children 
made  their  home  in  the  Coddington  house  ?  This 
seems  likely,  and  a  brighter  day  dawns  for  them  all. 
John  Hull,  the  future  mint-master  of  the  colony, 
looking  up  lands  in  Braintree,  discovers  daugh- 
ter Judith,  that  flower  in  the  wilderness,  and 
bears  her  to  his  Boston  home.  Hardly  twenty 
years  old  was  she  when  in  1647  he  married  her. 
Governor  Winthrop  performed  the  ceremony  in 
Boston, —  a  choice  company,  no  doubt,  witnessing 
it,  and  rejoicing  in  it.  But  however  celebrated, 
it  was  a  quiet  affair  compared  with  the  memorable 
wedding  of  their  daughter  Hannah.  Who  has 
not  heard  of  it,  and  been  dazzled  by  the  stream 
of  new  pine-tree  shillings  which  the  prosperous 
mint-master  poured  into  the  big  scales  until  they 
weighed  down  his  plump  daughter?  Such  was 
the  dower  she  brought  to  Judge  Samuel  Sew- 
all,  her  husband.  This  cherished  story  of  our 
childhood  is  doubted  by  some,  who  marvel  that 


JUDITH  AND  JOANNA  45 

silver  enough  for  the  transaction  should  have 
been  stored  away  by  honest  John  Hull ;  but  the 
diligent  calculator  finds  that  the  bride's  dower 
was  really  <£500,  which  in  silver  would  weigh 
exactly  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds. 
Thus  the  story  and  the  figure  of  Hannah  are 
both  saved.  An  original  touch  seems  commonly 
to  have  gone  with  the  benefactions  of  the  genial 
mint-master.  For  his  wife  he  named  the  most 
bleak,  windy,  and  surf -buffeted  headland  between 
Cape  Cod  and  Sandy  Hook.  Stormy  Point  Ju- 
dith !  Does  the  title  record  a  compliment  that 
failed?  Or  was  it  a  distant,  a  safely  distant, 
allusion  away  off  there  in  the  Narragansett 
country,  where  he  had  acquired  land  from  the 
savages,  to  the  occasional  ebullition  of  feminin- 
ity warranted  once  in  a  while  by  the  offensive 
serenity  of  the  best  of  husbands?  The  com- 
pliment theory  will  have  weight  with  all  who 
have  not  lost  faith  in  masculine  consistency,  for 
besides  being  an  honest  man  and  captain  of  the 
Ancient  and  Honorable  Artillery  Company,  he 
was  a  "  saint  "  no  less,  and  his  wife  was  well 
content  to  walk  daily  in  the  light  of  his  halo. 
"  This  outshines  them  all,"  declared  Rev.  Mr. 
Willard,  enumerating  his  virtues  in  a  funeral 
sermon,  "  that  he  was  a  saint  upon  earth ;  that 
he  lived  like  a  saint  here,  and  died  the  precious 
death  of  a  saint."  However,  Judith  was  worthy 
of  him,  and  she,  too,  in  a  quaint  obituary,  rudely 


46    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

printed,  with  a  black  border  and  epitaph  (a  copy 
was  preserved  by  Miss  E.  S.  Quincy),  received  the 
praise  of  the  "  elect  lady,"  —  "  Mrs.  Judith  Hull 
of  Boston,  in  New  England,  Daughter  of  Mr. 
Edmund  Quincey  ;  late  wife  of  John  Hull  Esq., 
deceased.  A  Diligent,  Constant,  Fruitful  Reader 
and  Hearer  of  the  Word  of  God,  Rested  from  her 
Labors,  June  22,  1695,  being  the  seventh  day  of 
the  Week,  a  little  before  Sun-set,  just  about  the 
time  She  used  to  begin  the  Sabbath.  Anno 
^Etatis  Suce  69." 

Into  such  a  delightful  circle  Judith  the  elder, 
the  twice  widowed,  was  welcomed.  The  father  of 
the  mint-master,  Robert  Hull,  hale  and  hearty  at 
fifty-five,  is  captivated  by  his  son's  mother-in-law, 
who  is  fair  and  forty-six,  and  their  marriage  is 
duly  celebrated.  Happily  did  they  live  together 
in  his  Boston  home  till  her  death,  the  29th  of 
March,  1654.  Indeed,  he  took  Judith's  entire 
family  into  his  capacious  affections,  and  in  his 
will  he  not  only  provided  for  his  own  children, 
but  left  lands  in  Braintree  to  "  Son  Edmund 
Quincy." 

Judith,  with  a  mother's  considerateness,  had 
deferred  her  own  happiness  till  that  of  her  other 
child,  Edmund,  was  secured.  His  troth  was 
plighted  to  Joanna  Hoar,  and  they  were  married 
the  26th  day  of  July,  1648.  He  was  only  twenty- 
one  years  of  age  when  this  event  took  place ; 
but  the  impatient  Robert  Hull  must  not  be  kept 


JUDITH   AND  JOAXNA  47 

waiting  too  long,  and  Judith  was  determined  that 
she  would  see  the  youthful  couple  well  established 
in  the  old  home  before  she  left  it.  And  now 
with  entire  freedom  of  mind  she  might  take  this 
step,  for  Edmund  and  Joanna  were  an  ideal  pair. 
Tall  and  comely  was  he,  as  the  men  of  his  race 
have  been  in  every  generation  since  ;  mature  also 
for  his  years,  made  so  by  ceaseless  strife  with  the 
wilderness.  "  A  man  quickly  grows  old  in  battle," 
declared  the  youthful  Napoleon.  Not  less  admir- 
able, as  one  delights  to  believe,  was  his  bride. 
Indeed,  if  Joanna  was  her  mother's  daughter  in 
the  essentials  of  mind  and  character,  her  price 
was  above  rubies. 

The  mother  of  Joanna,  herself  a  Joanna,  was 
a  true  Roman  matron,  schooled  in  tribulations, 
unfailing  in  fortitude,  the  heroic  founder  of  an 
enduring  race.  "  Great  mother  "  her  contempo- 
raries called  her,  deliberately  carving  the  words 
on  the  table  monument  which  marks  her  last 
resting  place  in  the  old  Quincy  burying  ground. 
"  Take  care  of  Joanna  Hoar  !  "  was  the  last  in- 
junction of  the  late  Judge  E.  R.  Hoar  to  his  friend 
C.  F.  Adams,  the  younger.  He  deeply  desired  to 
do  her  honor.  He  was  proud  to  look  up  to  her  as 
the  great  ancestress  of  his  own  race,  and  of  many 
another  family  distinguished  in  American  history. 
Mr.  Adams,  who  takes  pleasure  in  numbering 
himself  with  "  the  tribe  of  Joanna,"  writes  that 
"  she  is  the  common  origin  of  that  remarkable 


48    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

progeny  in  which  statesmen,  jurists,  lawyers, 
orators,  poets,  story-tellers,  and  philosophers  seem 
to  vie  with  each  other  in  recognized  eminence." 
For  freedom  in  religion  she  fled  to  these  shores. 
Her  husband,  Charles  Hoar,  had  been  sheriff  of 
Gloucester,  in  England,  —  a  man  of  substance, 
and  much  regarded.  Both  were  Puritans.  It 
was  after  her  husband's  death,  which  occurred  in 
1638,  that  the  intrepid  widow,  with  five  children, 
forsook  her  pleasant  Gloucester  home  with  all  its 
comforts,  and  braved  the  perils  of  the  sea  and 
the  hardships  of  the  wilderness,  to  worship  God 
according  to  her  conscience.  She  arrived  here 
in  1640,  and  settled  immediately  in  Braintree. 
Her  daughter  Margery  within  a  year  married  the 
able  young  minister  of  the  Braintree  church, 
Henry  Flynt ;  John,  the  eldest  son,  ancestor  of 
Judge  E.  R.  Hoar  and  his  brother,  Hon.  George 
F.  Hoar,  removed  first  to  Scituate  and  then  to 
Concord ;  and  Joanna,  as  has  been  related,  mar- 
ried Edmund  Quincy. 

With  another  son,  Leonard,  there  are  connected 
the  dramatis  personal  of  a  notable  tragedy.  He 
himself  is  distinguished  as  the  third  president  of 
Harvard  College,  and  the  first  of  its  graduates 
to  be  thus  honored.  He  was  "  designated  in  his 
father's  will  to  be  the  scholar  of  the  family  and 
a  teacher  in  the  Church,  although  by  his  coming 
to  New  England  he  missed  the  proposed  matricu- 
lation at  Oxford,  yet  satisfied  fully  the  spirit  of 


JUDITH  AND  JOANNA  49 

the  paternal  wish."  After  graduating  from  Har- 
vard in  the  class  of  1650  he  returned  to  England, 
where  he  continued  his  studies  at  the  English 
Cambridge,  receiving  a  degree.  Soon  after  he 
was  presented  by  Sir  Henry  Mildmay  —  one  of 
the  regicides,  then  lord  of  the  manor  —  with  the 
benefice  of  Wanstead,  in  Essex.  For  wife  he 
married  Bridget,  the  daughter  of  John  Lord 
Lisle  and  Lady  Alicia  Lisle.  With  her  he  came 
again  to  New  England  July  8, 1672,  having  been 
called  thither  with  a  view  to  settlement  over  the 
South  Church,  Boston.  But  he  brought  with 
him  a  letter  signed  by  thirteen  dissenting  minis- 
ters of  London  and  vicinity  commending  him  as 
a  suitable  person  for  the  presidency  of  Harvard, 
then  vacant,  and,  despite  one  or  more  formidable 
rivals,  he  was  installed  in  that  office  December 
10,  1672. 

Lord  Lisle,  his  wife's  father,  was  president  of 
the  High  Court  of  Justice  appointed  for  the  trial 
of  King  Charles  I.,  and  became  Lord  Commis- 
sioner of  the  Great  Seal.  "  He  for  some  reason 
did  not  sign  the  death  warrant  of  Charles  I.,  but 
was  chosen  by  Cromwell  one  of  the  Committee  of 
Seven,  who  prepared  *  a  draft  of  a  sentence,  with 
a  blank  for  the  manner  of  his  death.'  '  It  was 
enough.  At  the  Restoration  his  was  the  first 
name  in  the  list  of  those  excepted  from  the  act 
of  indemnity.  Fleeing  from  England  with  a 
price  set  upon  his  head,  he  was  tracked  by  assas- 


50     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

sins,  who  murdered  him  at  Lausanne,  in  Switzer- 
land, August  11,  1664. 

The  fate  of  Lady  Alicia  was  even  more  tragic. 
Twenty  years  later  she  was  haled  before  the 
"  bloody  assize  "  of  the  infamous  Chief  Justice 
Jeffreys,  charged  with  aiding  and  concealing  in 
her  dwelling  on  the  day  after  the  battle  of  Sedge- 
moor  Richard  Nelthorpe,  a  lawyer,  and  John 
Hicks,  a  clergyman,  accused  of  being  refugees 
from  Monmouth's  army.  "  She  declared  her- 
self innocent  of  guilty  knowledge,  and  protested 
against  the  illegality  of  her  trial,  because  the 
supposed  rebels  to  whom  she  had  given  hospi- 
tality had  not  been  convicted.  She  was  then  ad- 
vanced in  years,  and  so  feeble  that  it  was  said  she 
was  unable  to  keep  awake  during  her  tedious  trial. 
Jeffreys  arrogantly  refused  her  the  aid  of  counsel, 
admitted  irrelevant  testimony,  excelled  himself  in 
violent  abuse,  and  so  intimidated  the  jurors,  who 
were  disposed  to  dismiss  the  charge,  that  they 
unwillingly  at  last  brought  in  a  verdict  of  guilty. 
She  was  hurriedly  condemned  'to  be  burned 
alive '  the  very  afternoon  of  the  day  of  her  trial, 
August  28,  1685 ;  but  owing  to  the  indignant 
protests  of  the  clergy  of  Winchester,  execution 
was  postponed  for  five  days,  and  the  sentence 
was  '  altered  from  burning  to  beheading.'  This 
punishment  was  exacted  in  the  market  place  of 
Winchester  on  the  appointed  day,  the  implacable 
King  James  II.  refusing  a  pardon,  although  it 


JUDITH   AND  JOANNA  51 

was  proved  that  Lady  Lisle  had  protected  many 
cavaliers  in  distress  and  that  her  son  John  was 
serving  in  the  royal  army;  and  many  persons 
of  high  rank  interceded  for  her,  among  whom 
was  Lord  Clarendon,  brother-in-law  to  the  king. 
Lady  Lisle  was  connected  by  marriage  with  the 
Bond,  Whitmore,  Churchill,  and  other  families 
of  distinction,  and  her  granddaughter  married 
Lord  James  Russell,  fifth  son  of  the  first  Duke 
of  Bedford,  thus  connecting  this  tragedy  with  that 
of  Lord  William  Russell, '  the  martyr  of  English 
Liberty.'  " 

The  Hon.  George  F.  Hoar  in  1892  paid  a 
visit  to  Moyles's  Court,  the  ancient  home  of  the 
Lisles,  and  made  notes,  which  with  the  above 
details  were  wrought  into  an  account  of  "  The 
Hoar  Family  in  America  and  its  English  Ances- 
try," by  Henry  Stedman  Nourse.  Interest  in  the 
Lady  Alicia  is  so  much  deepened  by  these  notes 
that  the  temptation  to  quote  a  few  of  them  is 
not  wisely  to  be  resisted  :  — 

"  Saturday,  October  22d,  Mr.  Hoar,  with  two 
ladies,  went  from  Southampton  to  Ringwood, 
about  twenty  miles,  and  drove  thence  to  Elling- 
ham  church,  about  two  miles  and  a  half.  The 
church  is  a  small  but  very  beautiful  structure  of 
stone,  with  a  small  wooden  belfry.  The  tomb 
of  Lady  Alice  Lisle  is  a  heavy  flat  slab  of  gray 
stone,  raised  about  two  or  three  feet  from  the 
ground,  bearing  the  following  inscription  :  — 


52    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

"  '  Here  Lies  Dame  Alicia  Lisle 
and  her  daughter  Ann  Harfeld 
who  dyed  the  17th  of  Feh.  1703^1 
Alicia  Lisle  Dyed  the 
second  of  Sept.  1685.' 

"  Lady  Lisle  was  carried  on  horseback  by  a 
trooper  to  Winchester.  The  horse  lost  a  shoe, 
and  fell  lame ;  she  insisted  that  the  trooper 
should  stop  at  a  smith's  and  have  the  shoe  re- 
placed, and  on  his  refusing  declared  that  she 
would  make  an  outcry  and  resistance  unless  he 
did,  saying  she  could  not  bear  to  have  the  horse 
suffer.  The  blacksmith  at  first  refused.  He 
said  he  would  do  nothing  to  help  the  carrying 
off  Lady  Lisle,  but  she  entreated  him  to  do  it 
for  her  sake.  She  said  she  should  come  back 
that  way  in  a  few  days ;  the  trooper  said,  '  Yes, 
you  will  come  back  in  a  few  days,  but  without 
your  head.' 

"  The  body  was  returned  to  Moyles's  Court 
the  day  of  the  execution ;  the  head  was  brought 
back  a  few  days  after  in  a  basket,  and  put  in  at 
the  pantry  window ;  the  messenger  said  that  the 
head  was  sent  afterward  for  greater  indignity." 

So,  while  here  in  a  small  frontier  settlement, 
the  daughter  and  her  people  are  living  peaceful, 
uneventful  days,  there  in  old  England  the  father 
is  a  fugitive,  the  mother  a  prisoner,  and  both 
ultimately  suffering  the  extreme  vengeance  of  a 
Stuart.     Among  the  eight  great  historical  paint- 


JUDITH  AND  JOANNA  53 

ings  by  E.  M.  Ward,  R.  A.,  which  adorn  the 
corridor  leading  to  the  House  of  Commons,  the 
third  in  the  series  represents  Lady  Lisle's  arrest 
for  relieving:  the  two  fugitives  from  Monmouth's 
defeated  army.  Strange,  is  it  not,  that  dwellers 
in  a  peaceful  hamlet  in  this  western  world 
should  be  so  intimately  related  to  the  chief 
actors  in  some  of  those  Old  World  tragedies ! 
Tranquillest  lives  they  seem  to  be  living ;  no 
word  comes  down  to  us  revealing  the  turmoil  of 
their  hearts,  and  yet  the  tardy  letters  from  be- 
yond the  limitless  seas  burdened  their  souls  with 
woe  upon  woe.  To  him  who  can  look  beneath 
the  surface,  all  this  and  more  is  visible.  The 
New  World,  too,  furnished  its  measure  of  dark- 
ness to  that  shadow  of  sorrow  which  falls  from 
every  son  of  man  who  walks  in  the  light  of  life. 
Leonard  Hoar,  the  Harvard  president,  aroused 
bitter  opposition  by  espousing,  as  it  is  supposed, 
the  "  Half-way  Covenant."  This,  which  suffered 
persons  baptized  in  infancy  to  become  church 
members  without  formal  confession,  was  the  far- 
thest step  for  the  liberals  of  those  days,  and 
may  indicate  his  affinity  with  the  tolerant  spirit 
of  Henry  Flynt  of  Braintree  and  his  fellow 
thinkers.  The  "  sour  leven  "  of  advanced  ideas 
was  still  fermenting  there.  At  all  events  the 
students  fell  away  from  the  president,  and  "  set 
themselves  to  Travestie  whatever  he  did  and 
said,  and  aggravate  everything  in  his  Behavior 


54    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

disagreeable  to  them,  with  a  design  to  make  him 
Odious."  They  were  countenanced  by  certain  per- 
sons who  "  made  a  figure  in  the  neighborhood," 
with  the  result  that  he  was  forced  to  resign. 
This  so  wrought  upon  Dr.  Hoar  that,  as  Cotton 
Mather  writes,  "  his  Grief  threw  him  into  a 
Consumption  whereof  he  died  November  28, 
1675,  in  Boston."  "  A  solemn  stroke  !  "  records 
Increase  Mather.  His  remains  were  interred  in 
the  burying  ground  of  Braintree,  now  Quincy, 
where  those  of  his  wife  and  mother  were  ulti- 
mately laid. 

Bridget,  his  widow,  now  about  thirty-six  years 
old,  remained  single  a  year,  to  a  day,  when  she 
married  Hezekiah  Usher,  a  Boston  merchant. 
He  turned  out  to  be  a  crotchety,  willful  sort 
of  man,  with  whom  she  could  not  live  on  any 
endurable  terms.  So  her  resolved  heart  deter- 
mined on  a  voyage  to  England,  whither,  it  may 
be,  she  felt  summoned  to  perform  some  sacred 
last  things  in  memory  of  that  father  so  recently 
slain  and  to  comfort  her  mother.  Providential 
was  this  step  ;  for  when  her  mother,  so  cruelly 
treated,  needed  her  most,  there  she  was  at  hand 
to  lavish  upon  her  the  tender  ministries  of  love. 
Later,  when  William  and  Mary  came  to  the 
throne,  she  and  her  sister  succeeded  in  having 
the  attainder  against  her  mother  reversed. 

Usher  had  enough  good  sense  to  realize  his 
loss,  and,  as  Sewall  wrote,  "  goes  down  the  liar- 


JUDITH   AND  JOANNA  55 

bor  with  his  wife  and  her  daughter  and  weeps 
at  taking  leave."  Not  till  her  husband's  death, 
in  1697,  did  she  return  to  Boston.  Then, 
through  the  efforts  of  Judge  Sewall  and  "  cousin 
Anna  [Joanna]  Quinsey  we  introduce  Madam 
Usher  to  Mr.  H.  Usher's  House  and  Ground  on 
the  Common."  Here  she  dwelt  till  "  she  de- 
parted this  life  the  25th  of  the  last  month  (May, 
1723)  being  Saturday  at  about  two  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  after  about  a  fortnight's  Indispo- 
sition, and  according  to  her  express  desire  was 
Intere'd  at  Brantry  May  30th  in  the  Grave  of 
Dr.  Leonard  Hoar,  her  first  Husband,  and  her 
younger  daughter  Tryphena,  and  the  Doctrs- 
Mother  and  Sisters.  The  Corps  was  attended 
about  half  a  mile  in  the  street  leading  thither- 
ward  by  the  Bearers,  being  the  Honble  Wm. 
Dummer,  Esqr.,  Lt.  Gov.  and  Com'd'r  in  Cheif, 
Sam'l  Sewall,  Penn  Townsend,  Edward  Brom- 
field,  Simeon  Stoddard,  and  Edmund  Quincey, 
Esq'rs,  and  many  others,  principal  Gentlemen 
and  Gentlewomen  of  the  Town,  Mr.  Leonard 
Cotton  being  the  principal  Mourner.  It  pleased 
God  to  afford  us  a  very  comfortable  day  for  the 
Solemnity,  wherein  the  Executors  Colo.  Quincey 
Mr.  Flynt,  and  others  Gen't  with  several  Gentle- 
women of  her  cheif  acquaintance  proceeded  to 
Braintry  on  Horse  back  and  in  Coaches.  The 
distance  is  very  little  above  ten  miles."  No 
other  lady  of   the  land  could  have  had  more 


56    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

respect  shown  her,  and  Judge  Sewall,  who  wrote 
this  account  for  Mrs.  Bridget  Cotton,  her  daugh- 
ter, in  London,  says  farther,  they  "  gave  my  wife 
and  I  gloves."  "  Eat  at  Judge  Quincys  and 
then  we  return  home." 

And  Joanna,  the  great  mother  of  these  and 
other  striving  souls,  what  of  her  all  these  years  ? 
Fortunately  she  had  been  spared  the  pain   of 
witnessing  the  distresses  of  her  children,  and  of 
being  saddened  by  the  violent  deaths  of   her 
connections  over  sea.     She  passed  away  half  a 
century  before  her  daughter-in-law,  on  December 
21,  1661.     Uneventful,  calm,  and  full  of  good 
works  we  may  believe  her  life  to  have  been  in 
this  new  land.    For  Leonard,  before  he  returned 
to  England  after  graduating  from  Harvard,  and 
for  John,  before  he  removed  to  Scituate  on  his 
way  to  Concord,  she  made  a  home  in  Braintree. 
After  that  we  know  not  whether  she  had  a  home 
of   her  own.     Welcome  she  would  be   in   the 
home  of  parson  Flynt,  who  married  her  daughter 
Margery,  or   in   the  Qiiincy   farmhouse,  where 
daughter  Joanna  was  the  gracious  mistress.     At 
the  parsonage  dame  Margery's  school  for  "  in- 
structing young  Gentlewoemen,"  to  say  nothing 
of  her  rapidly  increasing  family,  left  scant  room 
for  long  visits,  but  at  the  Quincy  home  there 
would  be  sufficient  accommodations,  and,  in  ad- 
dition, the  congenial  companionship  of  Madam 
Judith  Quincy  Paine.     Judith  and  Joanna  to- 


RESIDENCE   OF   GOV.  CODDINGTON,  NEWPORT,  R.   I.,   1641. 


FIRST   CHURCH    FROM   OLD   BURYING-GROUND 
Hoar  tombstones  at  left 


JUDITH  AND  JOANNA  57 

gether,  abiding  under  the  same  roof  :  is  it  not  a 
conjunction  happy  enough  to  have  been  ordained 
in  the  scheme  of  things  !  Sisters  they  in  like 
sorrows,  and  with  equal  fortitude  bearing  the 
buffets  of  the  same  rude  world ;  mothers  they, 
made  one  through  mingling  lines  of  children's 
children  stretching  in  crowned  lives  to  the  latest 
age.  Judith,  when  she  removed  to  Boston  as 
Mistress  Hull,  may  have  left  Joanna  sage  coun- 
selor of  the  young  couple  in  the  old  home. 
Frequently  would  she  return  thither  till  her 
death,  in  1654.  The  remains  of  Judith  were 
interred  in  Boston,  those  of  Joanna  in  Braintree, 
but  the  thought  of  their  characters  is  one  in  the 
reverential  regard  of  a  thousand  descendants. 

To  this  elder  Joanna,  and  some  of  her  more 
notable  connections,  a  monument  was  erected 
a  few  years  ago  in  the  old  burying  ground  in 
Quincy,  by  Senator  George  F.  Hoar.  From  the 
same  spot  another  memorial  was  dated  more 
recently,  in  which  the  shade  of  Joanna  is  repre- 
sented as  addressing  this  generation.  Its  nature 
is  best  described  in  words  taken  from  an  address 
upon  the  character  of  Judge  E.  R.  Hoar  de- 
livered by  Charles  F.  Adams,  the  younger,  before 
the  members  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  So- 
ciety, February  14,  1895.  "  Shortly  after  my  re- 
turn from  a  trip  to  Europe,  nearly  six  months 
ago,  Judge  Hoar  drove  over  to  my  house  in  Lin- 
coln one  bright  September  Sunday,  and  after 


58    WHERE   AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

some  pleasant  talk  drew  from  his  pocket  a  paper 
which  he  proceeded  to  read  to  me.  Dated  from 
Quincy,  where  Joanna  Hoar  lies  buried  in  the 
ancient  graveyard  by  the  side  of  her  son  Leonard, 
it  was  a  supposed  communication  from  her,  writ- 
ten in  the  quaint  olden  style,  and  addressed  to 
Mrs.  Agassiz,  the  president  of  Radcliffe,  convey- 
ing a  gift  of  $5000  to  endow  a  scholarship  to 
assist  in  the  education  of  girls  at  the  college, 
'  preference  always  to  be  given  to  natives,  or 
daughters  of  citizens  of  Concord,'  and  to  bear 
as  an  endowment  the  name  of  '  the  Widow 
Joanna  Hoar.' 

"  Altogether  it  was  a  delightful  bit  of  fan- 
ciful correspondence,  kindly  as  well  as  reveren- 
tially conceived,  and  most  charmingly  carried 
out;  and  our  old  friend  enjoyed  it  keenly.  It 
appealed  to  his  sense  of  humor.  He  chose  to 
give  with  an  unseen  hand,  and  to  build  his  me- 
morial to  his  first  New  England  ancestor  in  his 
own  peculiar  way." 

Quincy,  September  12,  1894. 
To  Mistress  Louis  Agassiz, 

President  of  Radcliffe  College, 

Cambridge,  Massachusetts. 
Honored  and  Gracious  Lady,  —  This  epistle  is  ad- 
dressed to  you  from  Quincy,  because  in  the  part  of  Brain- 
tree  which  now  bears  that  name,  in  the  burial  place  by  the 
meeting  house,  all  that  was  mortal  of  me  was  laid  to  rest 
more  than  two  centuries  ago,  and  the  gravestone  stands 
which  bears  my  name,  and  marks  the  spot  where  my  dust 
reposes. 


JUDITH   AND  JOANNA  59 

It  may  cause  you  surprise  to  be  thus  addressed,  and  that 
the  work  which  you  are  pursuing  with  such  constancy  and 
success  is  of  interest  to  one  who  so  long  ago  passed  from 
the  mortal  sight  of  men.  But  you  may  recall  that  wise 
philosophers  have  believed  and  taught  that  those  who  have 
striven  to  do  their  Lord's  will  here  below  do  not,  when 
transferred  to  his  house  on  high,  thereby  become  wholly 
regardless  of  what  may  befall  those  who  come  after  them, 
—  "nee,  haec  coelestia  spectantes,  ista  terrestria  contem- 
nunt."  It  is  a  comforting  faith  that  those  who  have  "  gone 
forth  weeping,  bearing  precious  seed,"  shall  be  permitted 
to  see  and  share  the  joys  of  the  harvest  with  their  succes- 
sors who  gather  it. 

I  was  a  contemporary  of  the  pious  and  bountiful  Lady 
Radcliffe,  for  whom  your  college  is  named.  My  honored 
husband,  Charles  Hoar,  Sheriff  of  Gloucester  in  England, 
by  his  death  in  1638,  left  me  a  widow  with  six  children. 
We  were  of  the  people  called  by  their  revilers  Puritans,  to 
whom  civil  liberty,  sound  learning,  and  religion  were  very 
dear.  The  times  were  troublous  in  England,  and  the  hands 
of  princes  and  prelates  were  heavy  upon  God's  people.  My 
thoughts  were  turned  to  the  new  England  where  precious 
Mr.  John  Harvard  had  just  lighted  that  little  candle  which 
has  since  thrown  its  beams  so  far,  where  there  seemed  a 
providential  refuge  for  those  who  desired  a  church  without 
a  bishop,  and  a  state  without  a  king. 

I  did  not,  therefore,  like  the  worshipful  Lady  Radcliffe, 
send  a  contribution  in  money ;  but  I  came  hither  myself, 
bringing  the  five  youngest  of  my  children  with  me,  and 
arrived  at  Braintree  in  the  year  1640. 

From  that  day  Harvard  College  has  been  much  in  my 
mind ;  and  I  humbly  trust  that  my  coming  has  not  been 
without  some  furtherance  to  its  well  being.  My  lamented 
husband  in  his  will  directed  that  our  youngest  son,  Leonard, 
should  be  "  carefullie  kept  at  Schoole,  and  when  hee  is  fitt 
for  itt  to  be  carefullie  placed  at  Oxford,  and  if  ye  Lord 
shall  see  fitt,  to  make  him  a  Minister  unto  his  people."   As 


N     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

the  nearest  practicable  conformity  to  this  direction.  I  placed 
him  carefully  at  Harvard  College,  to  such  purpose  that  he 
graduated  therefrom  in  16»  ame  a  f;iithfid  minister  to 

God's  people,  a  eapahle  physician  to  heal  their  hoclily  dis- 
and  became  the  third  President  of  the  College,  and 
the  first  who  was  a  graduate  from  it.  in  1672. 

My  daughters  became  the  wives  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Flint, 
the  minister  of  Braintree.  and  Col.  Edmund  Quincy  of  the 
same  town  :  and  it  is  recorded  that  from  their  descendants 
another  President  has  since  been  raised  up  to  the  College, 
Josiah  Quincy  (torn  canon  caput),  and  a  Professor  of  Rhe- 
toric and  Oratory.  John  Quincy  Adams,  who  as  well  as  his 
sons  and  grandsons  have  given  much  aid  to  the  College,  as 
members  of  one  or  the  other  of  its  governing  boards,  beside 
attaining  other  distinctions  less  to  my  present  purpose. 

The  elder  of  my  three  sons  who  came  with  me  to  Amer- 
ica. John  Hoar,  settled  in  the  extreme  western  frontier 
town  of  English  settlement  in  New  England,  called  Con- 
cord :  to  which  that  exemplary  Christian  man.  the  Rever- 
end Peter  Bulkeley,  had  brought  his  flock  in  1635.  In 
Mr.  Bulkeley's  ponderous  theological  treatise,  called  "  The 
Gospel  Covenant."  of  which  two  editions  were  published  in 
London  (but  whether  it  be  so  generally  and  constantly  pe- 
rused and  studied  at  the  present  day.  as  it  was  in  my  time, 
I  know  not).  —  in  the  preface  thereto,  he  says  it  was  writ- 
ten "at  the  end  of  the  earth.''  There  my  son  and  his 
posterity  have  dwelt  and  multiplied,  and  the  love  and  ser- 
vice of  the  College  which  I  should  approve  have  not  been 
wholly  wanting  among  them.  In  so  remote  a  place  there 
must  be  urgent  need  of  instruction,  though  the  report  seems 
to  be  well  founded  that  settlements  farther  westward  have 
since  been  made,  and  that  some  even  of  my  own  posterity 
have  penetrated  the  continent  to  the  shores  of  the  Pacific 
Sea.  Among  the  descendants  of  John  Hoar  have  been  that 
worthy  Professor  John  Farrar.  whose  beautiful  face  in  mar- 
ble is  among  the  precious  possessions  of  the  College :  that 
dear  and  faithful  woman  who  gave  the  whole  of  her  humble 


JUDITH   AND  JOAXXA  61 

fortune  to  establish  a  scholarship  therein,  Levina  Hoar  ; 
and  others  who  as  Fellows  or  Overseers  have  done  what 
they  could  for  its  prosperity  and  growth. 

Pardon  my  prolixity,  but  the  story  I  have  told  is  but  a 
prelude  to  my  request  of  your  kindness.  There  is  no 
authentic  mode  in  which  departed  souls  can  impart  their 
wishes  to  those  who  succeed  them  in  this  world  but  these, 
the  record  or  memory  of  their  thoughts  and  deeds,  while 
on  earth ;  or  the  reappearance  of  their  qualities  of  mind 
and  character  in  their  lineal  descendants. 

In  this  first  year  of  Radcliffe  College,  —  when  so  far  as 
seems  practicable  and  wise,  the  advantages  which  our  dear 
Harvard  College,  "  the  defiance  of  the  Puritan  to  the  sav- 
age and  the  wilderness,"  has  so  long  bestowed  upon  her 
sons,  are  through  your  means  to  be  shared  by  the  sisters 
and  daughters  of  our  people,  —  if  it  should  so  befall  that 
funds  for  a  scholarship  to  assist  in  the  education  of  girls  at 
Radcliffe  College,  who  need  assistance,  with  preference  al- 
ways to  be  given  to  natives,  or  daughters  of  citizens  of  Con- 
cord, Massachusetts,  should  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  your 
Treasurer,  you  might  well  suppose  that  memory  of  me  had 
induced  some  of  my  descendants  to  spare  so  much  from 
their  necessities  for  such  a  modest  memorial :  and  I  would 
humbly  ask  that  the  scholarship  may  bear  the  name  of 

The  Widow  Joanna  Hoar. 

And  may  God  establish  the  good  work  you  have  in  charge  ! 


V 


THE    GREAT    ADVOCATE    OF    INDEPENDENCE, 
JOHN    ADAMS 

It  was  in  the  year  1640  —  just  about  the  time 
Mistress  Judith  Quincy  removed  from  Boston 
"  into  the  wilderness  "  of  Braintree — that  Henry 
Adams  was  confirmed  in  the  occupation  of  the 
forty  acres  "  for  ten  heads  "  in  the  same  settle- 
ment, by  grant  of  the  town  of  Boston.  The 
Adams  family  have  never  lacked  heads,  whether 
one  regards  quantity  or  quality ;  and  now,  in 
robustness  of  body  and  brain  and  abundant  pro- 
geny, was  founded  this  other  line  of  true  New 
England  men  and  women,  to  Avhich  centuries  are 
as  years,  and  which  in  every  age  of  America's 
history  has  signally  advanced  its  high  destiny. 
This  first  Henry  was  in  the  newly  incorporated 
township  a  man  of  mark,  —  its  first  brewer  (an 
important  office  among  Englishmen  brought  up 
on  the  nut-brown  ale),  and  also  first  clerk  and 
clerk  of  the  writs.  All  this  would  go  to  show 
that  in  1640  he  was  no  recent  settler,  but  a 
rooted  and  firmly  established  inhabitant.  The 
when  and  whence  of  his  arrival,  however,  are 
both  in  dispute.     President  John  Adams,  who 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE  G3 

should  know,  head  the  following  incised  on  a 
tomb  he  erected  in  1817  to  his  ancestors :  "  In 
memory  of  Henry  Adams,  who  took  his  flight 
from  the  Dragon  persecution  in  Devonshire,  in 
England,  and  alighted  with  eight  sons  near  Mount 
Wollaston."  As  nowhere  else  is  there  record  of 
"  the  Dragon  persecution,"  it  is  surmised  that 
"  the  Dragon  of  persecution  "  is  the  original 
tradition.  Another  descendant  in  these  later 
days,  the  Rev.  H.  F.  Fairbanks,  favors  the  flight 
from  Devonshire,  because  the  name  of  Henry 
Adams  has  been  for  two  centuries  or  so  on  an 
"  ancient  parchment  roll  "  which  connects  him 
with  a  distinguished  house  of  that  region.  No 
less  is  it  attempted  to  show  than  "  that  Henry 
Adams  was  a  descendant  of  Lord  ap  Adam  and 
his  wife  Elizabeth  de  Gournai,  who  lived  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  thirteenth  and  early  part  of 
the  fourteenth  century,  and  that  through  Eliza- 
beth de  Gournai  he  was  descended  from  Matilda 
and  William  the  Conqueror,  and  through  Matilda 
from  the  Counts  of  Flanders  on  the  one  side,  be- 
ing derived  from  the  Capetian  kings  of  France, 
and  on  the  other  side  from  Charlemagne,  the 
great  emperor  of  the  West." 

Little  did  John  Adams  know  of  this,  and  as 
little  would  he  have  cared  for  it.  Writing  to 
Miss  Hannah  Adams,  the  historian,  who  referred 
to  the  "  humble  obscurity "  of  their  common 
origin,  he  vigorously  declared  that,  could  "  I  ever 


64     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

suppose  that  family  pride  were  any  way  excusable, 
I  should  think  a  descent  from  a  line  of  virtu- 
ous, independent  New  England  farmers  for  a 
hundred  years  was  a  better  foundation  for  it 
than  a  descent  through  royal  or  noble  scoundrels 
ever  since  the  flood."  An  eternal  verity!  —  then 
cherished  chiefly  in  Puritan  circles,  and  heard  in 
the  prescient  utterance  of  a  Cromwell,  a  Milton, 
a  President  of  pure  democracy,  but  now  an  illus- 
trious truism  the  world  over.  Numerous  in  the 
colonies  were  these  "  nobles  by  the  right  of  an 
earlier  creation."  A  better  population  in  phys- 
ical soundness,  purity  of  life,  intelligence,  and 
high  human  aims  had  never  before  been  brought 
together.  Lafayette,  on  his  farewell  visit  to  these 
shores,  remarked,  in  pleased  surprise,  that  the 
immense  crowds  which  greeted  him  in  the  streets 
of  towns  and  cities  seemed  like  a  picked  popula- 
tion out  of  the  whole  human  race.  "  Seems  !  " 
Monsieur  le  Marquis  ?  "  Nay,  we  know  not 
seems !  "  They  were  in  truth  a  selected  peo- 
ple. In  their  uneventful  days  they  lived  simplest 
lives,  in  kindly,  honest  brotherhood,  independent, 
industrious,  sincerely  trying  to  do  the  Lord's  will 
as  they  understood  it ;  and  when  the  great  hour 
arrived  which  summoned  them  to  show  what  of 
valor  and  truth  was  in  them,  the  test  was  met 
with  prompt  and  natural  evolution  of  latencies 
into  the  white  flash  and  flame  of  patriotic  daring 
and  transcendent  wisdom.     From  the  farm  and 


THE   GREAT   ADVOCATE   OF  INDEPENDENCE    65 

the  shop,  with  scarce  a  transformation,  came 
heroes,  captains,  statesmen  of  renown,  and  women 
instinct  with  miraculous  wit  and  devotion,  who 
took  their  preordained  places,  outranking  the 
best  the  courts  and  cabinets  of  the  nations  mijjht 
produce. 

Such  were  the  people  from  whom  John  Adams 
sprang.  In  every  fibre  of  his  strong,  rugged,  and 
original  character,  he  was  a  typical  man  of  the 
free  common  people  of  the  best  New  England 
towns,  —  a  genuine  son  of  the  Puritan,  fearing 
God,  and  knowing  no  other  fear ;  a  right  seed  of 
the  "  sifted  grain  "  planted  here  in  the  New  World 
to  make  a  new  and  more  puissant  nation.  The 
elements  which  came  so  conspicuously  to  the  sur- 
face in  him  were  latent  in  his  forefathers,  and 
have  been  strenuously  manifested  in  many  an 
Adams  since.  They  are  Puritans  all,  clear  and 
direct  in  character,  with  not  a  trace  of  devious- 
ness,  relying  upon  principle,  and  not  at  all  upon 
human  dexterity,  and  never  feeling  at  home  un- 
less their  feet  are  upon  the  solid  and  eternal 
verities.  So  fixed,  they  rather  enjoy  defying  the 
world  of  the  shifty  and  the  unstable. 

"  Come  one,  come  all;  this  rock  shall  fly 
From  its  firm  base  as  soon  as  I." 

Another  theory  with  regard  to  the  arrival  of 
Henry  Adams  in  this  country  is  that  he  was  of 
the  devoted  company  of  that  renowned  minister, 
the  Rev.  Thomas  Hooker,  which,  fleeing  from 


<JG    WHERE  AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

Braintree  in  Essex  County,  England,  arrived  here 
in  the  summer  of  1632,  and  began  "  to  sit  down  " 
at  "  the  Mount."  While  actively  preparing  for 
the  coming  of  their  pastor  and  others  of  the 
brethren,  they  were  ordered  by  the  General  Court 
to  remove  to  Newtown,  now  Cambridge.  All  did 
not  remove.  Enough,  indeed,  remained  to  influ- 
ence the  settlers  at  a  later  date  to  change  the 
name  of  "  the  Mount,"  when  it  was  incorporated 
as  a  town,  to  that  of  their  dear  old  home  in  Eng- 
land, Braintree.  If  Henry  Adams  was  num- 
bered with  this  remnant,  his  word  and  that  of 
the  four  of  his  eight  sons  who  were  of  age  at 
that  time  would  have  been  potent  in  the  naming. 
It  was  a  vigorous  and  ambitious  family.  Four, 
at  least,  won  military  titles,  and  one  came  to  be  a 
deacon.  When  in  1646  the  father  died,  most  of 
the  sons  sought  on  the  frontier  larger  fields  to 
plough  and  plant,  and  went  to  Concord  and  Med- 
field  and  other  distant  towns.  Of  interest  is  it 
to  note  that  Lieutenant  Henry  Adams,  the  eldest 
son,  married  before  his  removal  Elizabeth  Paine, 
daughter  of  that  Moses  Paine  who  in  1643  mar- 
ried Judith  Quincy.  Thus  early  in  the  history 
of  these  two  families  did  they  come  into  relation- 
ship. 

Joseph,  the  seventh  son  of  the  original  Henry, 
remained  on  the  farm.  He  was  born  in  England 
in  1626.  It  is  through  him  and  his  son  Joseph 
that  the  family  tree  of  the  Adamses  came  to  its 


THE   GREAT   ADVOCATE   OF  INDEPENDENCE    67 

finest  efflorescence.  No  inconsiderable  man  was 
the  elder  Joseph,  —  farmer,  brewer  for  the  town, 
selectman,  and  father  of  twelve  children.  The 
mother  of  the  children  was  Abigail  Baxter,  of 
good  stock  too;  and  when  her  son  Joseph  mar- 
ried he  honored  brilliantly  the  Adams  instinct 
for  wiving  superior  women,  thus  early  devel- 
oped, and  took  to  his  heart  and  home  Hannah 
Bass,  daughter  of  sturdy  John  Bass  of  Brain- 
tree  and  Ruth  Alden  of  the  poetic  Priscilla 
lineage-.  Thus  through  solid,  intelligent,  God- 
fearing- men  and  women  the  race  ascended  to 
John,  the  deacon,  born  in  1691,  son  of  the  sec- 
ond Joseph.  "  He  was  beloved,  esteemed,  and 
revered  by  all  who  knew  him."  No  formal  and 
feckless  deacon  he,  but  a  manly  and  militant 
one,  made  lieutenant  in  the  militia,  and  serving 
the  town  as  selectman  for  many  years,  "  almost 
all  the  business  of  the  town  being  managed  by 
him."  Seven  children  were  born  to  him.  The 
eldest  of  them,  whom  he  named  John,  needed  only 
to  be  sent  to  college  to  start  him  in  a  career 
which  ended  in  the  Presidency.  "  If  my  grand- 
father himself,"  wrote  John  Quincy  Adams, 
"  had  received  the  same  education,  he  would  have 
been  distinguished  either  as  a  clergyman  or  as  a 
lawyer." 

The  house  in  which  John  Adams  was  born  is 
as  typical  of  its  kind  as  were  its  inhabitants  of 
their  kind.     It  is  the  plain,  square,  honest  block 


68    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

of  a  house,  widened  by  a  lean-to,  and  scarcely 
two  stories  high,  commonly  built  by  the  farmers 
of  the  period.  Such  are  still  to  be  seen  throughout 
New  England,  gleaming  white  under  the  cathedral 
elms.  Homely,  are  they  ?  Yes ;  but  like  their  com- 
panions, the  huge  granite  boulder  and  the  outcrop- 
ping clilf,  they  fit  harmoniously  into  the  rugged 
landscape.  The  Adams  homestead,  built  in  1681, 
was  adopted  at  once  by  inclusive  Nature  and 
woven  into  the  even  texture  of  her  scenery.  In 
front  of  it  ran  the  old  Plymouth  highway,  and 
behind  and  on  both  sides  stretched  away  the  wide 
fields  of  the  farm,  picturesquely  sprinkled  with 
orchard  trees  and  occasional  pines  and  elms.  The 
majestic  sweep  of  the  forest-covered  slopes  of 
Penn's  Hill,  near  at  hand,  and  the  more  distant 
terraces  of  the  Blue  Hills  bounded  the  vision. 
Now,  among  the  modern  cottages  of  a  thriving 
town,  it  seems  humble  enough  and  out  of  place, 
with  only  the  neighboring  house  —  in  which  John 
Quincy  Adams  was  born,  and  the  homestead  of 
the  solid  old  Field  family  —  to  keep  it  in  coun- 
tenance. 

But  in  human  interest  what  other  habitation 
in  all  this  broad  land  may  surpass  it  ?  Here  is 
the  real  Cradle  of  American  Independence, 
—  here,  and  in  the  house  adjoining,  where  John 
and  Abigail  Adams  began  their  married  life,  and 
in  which  their  illustrious  son  came  into  being. 
In   the   simplicity   of   these   surroundings  great 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE    69 

souls,  to  use  the  words  of  Milton,  were  "  inflamed 
with  the  study  of  learning  and  the  admiration  of 
virtue,  stirred  with  the  high  hopes  of  living  to  be 
brave  men  and  worthy  patriots,  dear  to  God,  and 
famous  to  all  ages."  It  is  one  of  the  shrines  of 
this  great  republic.  The  home  in  which  Wash- 
ington was  born  was  destroyed  by  fire  when  he 
was  three  years  of  age.  The  frail  cabin  in  which 
Lincoln  first  saw  the  light  soon  crumbled  to  dust. 
But  here  stands  the  veritable  roof-tree  under 
which  was  ushered  into  being  the  earliest  and 
strongest  advocate  of  independence,  —  the  leader 
whose  clear  intelligence  was  paramount  in  shaping 
our  free  institutions,  the  founder  of  a  line  of 
statesmen,  legislators,  diplomats,  historians,  whose 
patriotism  is  a  passion,  and  whose  integrity  is 
like  the  granite  of  their  native  hills.  Piously  is 
the  ancient  building  cared  for  by  the  Adams 
Chapter  of  the  Daughters  of  the  Revolution,  and 
its  original  appointments  preserved  for  the  sight 
of  reverent  pilgrims. 

It  was  on  the  19th  of  October,  1735,  that  the 
home  of  the  Adamses  was  blessed  with  the  son 
who  brought  it  fame.  Another  home  but  a  mile 
away,  the  home  of  Parson  Hancock,  was  similarly 
blessed  on  the  12th  of  January,  1737,  by  the 
birth  of  another  John.  To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Han- 
cock, with  no  eyes  to  look  into  the  future,  the 
two  Johns  are  but  two  boys  making  happy  two 
households,  and  brief  is  his  record  of  baptism, — 


70    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

"  John,  son  of  John  Adams,  October  2Gth,  1735;" 
"  John  Hancock,  my  son,  January  16th,  1737." 
But  the  son  of  the  deacon  and  the  son  of  the 
minister  were  to  be  joined  in  what  momentous 
transformations  !  As  boys  they  played  together, 
perhaps  went  to  the  same  school,  and  of  a  Sunday 
sat,  the  one  in  the  minister's  pew  and  the  other 
in  the  deacon's,  at  either  side  of  the  pulpit,  and 
furtively  pitied  each  other  as  the  sermon  length- 
ened. When  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hancock  died,  in 
1744,  his  son  was  adopted  by  the  rich  Thomas 
Hancock  of  Boston,  brother  of  the  minister.  But 
later  John  Adams  the  lawyer  aided  with  his 
legal  talent  John  Hancock  the  merchant,  and 
together  they  wrought  for  liberty  in  the  Provin- 
cial Congress  and  in  the  wider  field  of  the  Con- 
tinental Congress. 

It  was  a  daring  project  for  the  parents  of  John 
Adams  in  their  straitened  circumstances  to  send 
him  to  college  ;  but  he  was  their  first-born,  and 
the  promise  of  attaining  high  things  was  in  him. 
They  cherished  the  hope  that  he  would  become 
a  minister,  —  "  wag  his  pow  in  a  poopit,"  — 
fond  dream  of  Puritan  households.  What  an 
"  Orson  of  parsons  "  the  robust  and  explosive 
John  Adams  would  have  made  !  Fortunately 
for  the  peace  of  a  church,  which,  to  quote 
his  own  words,  wanted  in  a  parson  mainly 
"  stupidity,  irresistible  grace,  and  original  sin," 
he  developed  liberal  opinions  on  some  disputed 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE    71 

points  in  divinity.  In  this  crisis  of  his  fate,  upon 
graduating  from  Harvard,  he  took  to  teaching 
for  subsistence,  and  to  the  law  for  vocation.  Now, 
in  the  name  of  all  the  gods  at  once,  let  us  be 
thankful  that  this  invincible  Samson  was  preserved 
by  a  happy  foreordination  for  the  creation  of  a 
new  nation,  and  not  for  the  shaking  of  pillars  in 
the  temple  of  the  Philistines  !  In  this  very  year 
of  his  decision  we  find  his  prescient  patriotism 
surmising  that  the  seat  of  empire  may  be  trans- 
ferred to  America  ;  "  that  it  may  be  easy  to 
obtain  mastery  of  the  seas,  and  then  the  united 
force  of  all  Europe  will  not  be  able  to  subdue  us. 
The  only  way  to  keep  us  from  setting  up  for  our- 
selves is  to  disunite  us." 

From  teaching  and  law  study  in  Worcester  he 
returned  in  1758  to  Braintree.  "  Rose  at  sun- 
rise," reads  a  sample  record  in  his  diary,  "  un- 
pitched  a  load  of  hay,  and  translated  two  more 
leaves  of  Justinian."  He  is  socially  inclined,  and 
with  farm  chores  and  study  mingles  chat  and  tea 
with  neighbors,  and  smokes  a  friendly  pipe  with 
his  cousin,  Dr.  Savil,  next  door.  He  even  amuses 
himself  and  displays  his  Latinity  by  reading  Ovid's 
"  Art  of  Love  "  to  the  doctor's  wife  as  he  leans 
over  the  fence.  He  frequents  Parson  Wibird's 
bachelor  quarters  in  the  Spear  house,  still  stand- 
ing on  Canal  Street,  and  exhausts  the  contents 
of  that  gentleman's  mind,  "  stuffed  with  remarks 
and  stories  of  human  virtues  and  vices,  wisdom 


72    WHERE  AMERICAN    [^DEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

and  folly."  But  above  all,  the  most  stimulating 
conferences  on  liberty,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
most  distracting  encounter  of  wits,  is  to  be  found 
in  the  home  of  Josiah  Quincy,  in  the  Hancock 
parsonage,  and  in  the  Quincy  mansion,  occupied 
by  Edmund  Quincy.  There,  with  the  Quincys 
and  Jonathan  Sewall  and  John  Hancock  and 
many  another  known  to  fame,  he  talks  politics, 
law,  literature,  plays  cards,  flirts  a  bit,  and  de- 
means himself  generally  in  a  quite  human  fashion. 
He  is  ambitious  to  excel,  and  bears  his  part  with 
such  exuberant  energy  as  to  be  plagued  after- 
ward with  compunctious  visitings  of  conscience. 
"  I  have  not  conversed  enough  with  the  world," 
he  records,  "  to  behave  rightly.  I  talk  to  Paine 
about  Greek,  —  that  makes  him  laugh.  I  talk 
to  Sam  Quincy  about  resolution  and  being  a  great 
man,  and  study  and  improving  time,  —  which 
makes  him  laugh.  I  talk  to  Ned  [Quincy]  about 
the  folly  of  affecting  to  be  a  heretic,  —  which 
makes  him  mad.  I  talk  to  Hannah  and  Esther 
about  the  folly  of  love,  about  despising  it,  about 
being  above  it,  pretend  to  be  insensible  of  tender 
passions,  —  which  makes  them  laugh." 

He  was  not  really  cynical  with  regard  to  the 
tender  passions  ;  he  was  only  smitten.  The  five 
lovely  daughters  of  Judge  Edmund  Quincy,  and 
the  adorable  Hannah,  daughter  of  Colonel  Josiah 
Quincy,  aroused  in  him  the  unutterable,  not  to 
be  awkwardly  laughed  away.     Now  shy,  and  now 


THE   GREAT   ADVOCATE   OF   INDEPENDENCE    73 

boisterous,  as  is  the  way  of  a  young  man  charmed 
by  a  maid,  he  first  fluttered  around  Esther,  and 
then  fell  a  victim  to  the  enchantments  of  Hannah. 
To  her  he  was  about  to  propose — the  words  were 
trembling  upon  his  lips  —  when  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  fateful  intrusion  of  a  merry  party 
from  the  mansion.  He  drew  back  as  from  an 
abyss  which  might  have  swallowed  ambition, 
study,  promotion,  patriotism.  His  youth  and 
penniless  condition  were  responsible  for  this  revul- 
sion of  feeling.  Now  in  strenuous  study  he  seeks 
an  antidote  to  cleanse  his  bosom  of  that  perilous 
stuff,  —  "  no  girl,  no  gun,  no  cards,  no  flutes,  no 
violins,  no  dress,  no  tobacco,  no  laziness." 

John  Adams  took  himself  too  seriously,  as  is 
the  defect  of  the  Puritan  temper.  He  was  really 
devouring  books,  besides  doing  a  man's  work, 
almost,  on  the  farm.  About  this  time,  1761,  his 
father  died,  and  the  direction  of  affairs  fell  to 
him  as  the  eldest  son.  Now,  also,  he  entered 
upon  his  first  performance  of  public  duties. 
There  prevailed  in  his  town  a  sort  of  compulsory 
municipal  service  which  has  some  significance  in 
the  light  thrown  back  upon  it  by  the  disinter- 
ested attitude  of  generations  of  the  Adamses. 
This  service  now  summoned  John  Adams  to  bear 
his  part.  "  In  March,"  he  says  in  his  diary, 
"  when  I  had  no  suspicion,  I  heard  my  name 
pronounced  [at  town  meeting]  in  a  nomination 
of  surveyor  of  highways.     I  was  very  wroth  be- 


74    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

cause  I  knew  no  better,  but  said  nothing.  My 
friend,  Dr.  Savil,  came  to  me  and  told  me  that 
he  had  nominated  me  to  prevent  me  from  being 
nominated  as  a  constable.  '  For/  said  the  doctor, 
'  they  make  it  a  rule  to  compel  every  man  to  serve 
either  as  constable  or  surveyor,  or  to  pay  a  fine.' 
Accordingly,  I  went  to  ploughing  and  ditching 
.  .  .  and  building  an  entire  new  bridge  of  stone  be- 
low Dr.  Miller."  Charles  F.  Adams,  the  younger, 
comments  with  satisfaction  upon  this  method, 
and  declares  that  the  community  has  a  right  to 
the  services  of  its  best  men,  "  the  best  in  a  prac- 
tical sense,  and  that  its  claim  should  be  enforced, 
when  public  opinion  does  not  suffice,  by  other 
means."  This,  he  thinks,  would  be  one  factor 
in  solving  the  great  problems  connected  with  the 
government  of  all  towns  and  cities.  However 
this  may  be,  the  early  Quincy  method  and  the 
words  of  Mr.  Adams  throw  light  upon  a  princi- 
ple the  Adamses  have  invariably  followed.  They 
have  never  sought  public  office,  and  they  have 
never  refused  public  service,  however  humble. 
John  Adams  was  not  only  road  surveyor  but 
selectman.  John  Quincy  Adams,  after  he  had 
been  President,  did  not  hesitate  to  accept  the  com- 
paratively humble  position  of  representative  to 
Congress,  declaring  that  in  his  opinion  "  an  ex- 
President  would  not  be  degraded  by  serving  as  a 
selectman  of  his  town  if  elected  thereto  by  the 
people."     And  his  son,  Charles  Francis  Adams, 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE  75 

our  great  minister  to  England  during  the  civil 
war,  when  approached  by  his  fellow  townsmen 
who  wished  him  to  serve  on  the  school  board  or 
in  the  bank,  responded  simply,  "  I  am  very  busy 
with  my  literary  work,  but  if  my  fellow  citizens 
think  I  can  serve  them  in  that  capacity  I  will  ac- 
cept the  office."  It  is  the  chivalry  of  citizenship, 
the  fulfillment  of  the  royal  motto  "  I  serve  ; " 
honored  also  by  the  late  John  Quincy  Adams,  who 
for  nearly  a  score  of  years  officiated  as  moder- 
ator of  the  town  meeting,  and  by  the  present 
Charles  Francis  Adams,  who  as  a  member  of  the 
school  committee,  did  so  much  to  introduce  the 
improvements  known  as  the  "  Quincy  system." 

But  to  return  to  John  Adams  :  what  besides 
bridge  building  is  he  doing  in  these  formative 
days  ?  Most  important  event,  —  he  is  so  taken 
with  the  superb  Abigail  that  neither  studies  nor 
patriotic  visions  appear  for  a  moment  as  rivals. 
"  Would  you  know  how  first  he  met  her?  "  No 
such  homely  and  explicit  answer  can  be  given  as 
the  one  humorously  set  down  by  Thackeray  in  his 
poem  on  Werter  and  Charlotte.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  the  Rev.  William  Smith,  minister  of 
the  church  in  the  neighboring  town  of  Weymouth, 
and  he  may  have  seen  her  first  in  the  solemn 
setting  of  the  parson's  pew.  The  road  between 
the  towns  was  well  trodden,  and  a  companion  of 
John  Adams — Mr.  Richard  Cranch,  no  less  — 
married  her  elder  sister  Mary  in  this  very  year. 


70    WHERE   AMERICAN    [NDEPENDENCE  15  EC,  AN 

But  one  is  inclined  to  the  opinion  that  acquaint- 
ance began  in  the  animated  circles  of  the  Quincy 
mansion.  Abigail  was  connected  with  the  Quin- 
cys  by  marriage.  Her  grandmother  was  Mrs. 
John  Quincy,  who  lived  on  the  farm  at  Mount 
Wollaston,  which  adjoined  that  of  Judge  Ed- 
mund Quincy  on  the  seaward  side.  Here  she 
was  a  frequent  visitor.  Indeed,  much  of  all  she 
knew  was  taught  her  by  her  grandmother.  "  Her 
excellent  lessons,"  wrote  Abigail  later,  "made  a 
more  durable  impression  on  my  mind  than  those 
which  I  received  from  my  own  parents."  Of 
course  she  would  be  often  at  the  mansion,  at- 
tracted there  by  its  life  and  gayety ;  and  there, 
still  cherishing  his  heroics  against  marriage,  hus- 
tling, and  chat,  John  Adams  met  her  and  sur- 
rendered unconditionally. 

John  and  Abigail  on  the  25th  of  October,  1764, 
were  married.  In  several  aspects  it  was  a  great 
triumph  for  the  young  lawyer.  His  profession 
had  told  against  him,  for  one  thing.  According 
to  Puritan  ethics  it  was  an  unnecessary,  an  un- 
sanctiried  calling,  almost ;  fuller  of  quirks  to  set 
rogues  free  than  of  rules  to  effect  their  punish- 
ment. Consequently,  among  the  officious  of  the 
Weymouth  parish  there  were  dissatisfied  mur- 
murings.  The  facetious  parson  Smith  was  quick 
to  improve  the  occasion  with  a  "  timely  "  sermon. 
Upon  the  marriage  of  his  eldest  daughter  to 
Richard  Cranch  he  had  preached  upon  the  text, 


ABIGAIL   ADAMS 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE  77 

"  And  Mary  hath  chosen  that  good  part,  which 
shall  not  be  taken  away  from  her."  Now,  imme- 
diately after  the  marriage  of  Abigail,  he  surpassed 
himself  with  a  deliverance  from  the  text,  "  For 
John  .  .  .  came  neither  eatmg  bread  nor  drink- 
ing wine  ;  and  ye  say,  He  hath  a  devil." 

With  this  paternal  absolution  the  young  couple 
began  their  married  life  in  the  home  they  had 
been  preparing.  It  was  the  house  close  to  the 
one  in  which  John  was  born.  By  what  wealth 
of  heart's  devotion,  patriotic  fervor,  noble  self- 
sacrifice,  was  that  home  consecrated !  Abigail 
brought  to  it  a  spirit  as  clear  and  ardent  as  that 
which  burned  in  the  breast  of  John,  the  "  white 
fire"  of  his  flaming  zeal  for  liberty  and  the  rights 
of  man.  He  was  educated  far  beyond  her,  for  it 
was  the  "  fashion  to  ridicule  female  learning," 
and  she  was  never  sent  to  school ;  but  a  New 
England  home,  the  Bible  and  Shakespeare  were 
enough  to  draw  out  and  enrich  the  rare  powers 
with  which  she  was  originally  endowed,  and  to 
make  her  one  of  the  greatest  women  of  the  age, 
a  helpmeet  for  one  of  its  greatest  men. 

In  the  high  thinking  of  that  home,  the  idea 
of  independence,  floating  already  in  the  free  spirit 
of  the  first  settlers,  was  clearly  formed  and  ex- 
plicitly uttered.  So,  when  the  fateful  moment 
struck,  the  man  was  there  to  fling  the  creative 
word  among  the  glowing  souls  of  a  people,  and, 
like  the  central  element  which  originates  a  sun, 


78    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

it  drew  all  "  celestial  ardours  "  to  itself,  and  a 
new  luminary  among  the  galaxy  of  nations  rolled 
into  order  and  orbit. 

Onward  from  his  twentieth  year  he  never  wa- 
vered in  his  conviction  that  his  country  was  des- 
tined to  be  free  and  independent.  His  was  that 
large  view  of  human  events,  that  vision  of  things 
to  come,  which  belongs  to  the  morally  sagacious. 
How  quick  he  is  to  detect  in  any  true  word,  or 
aspiration  of  a  genuine  man,  the  heralding  of  the 
new  day  !  While  yet  a  student  of  law,  in  the 
year  1761,  he  hangs  upon  the  eloquence  of  James 
Otis  as  he  argues  against  the  "  Writs  of  Assist- 
ance "  and  takes  those  notes  of  the  address  which 
are  the  best  which  have  been  handed  down  to  this 
generation.  His  sympathetic  conclusions  even 
then  outran  the  thoughts  of  the  elder  patriot. 
Recalling  his  impressions,  fifty  years  later,  he 
wrote,  "  Then  and  there  was  the  first  scene  of  the 
first  act  of  opposition  to  the  arbitrary  claims  of 
Great  Britain.  Then  and  there  the  child  Inde- 
pendence was  born."  Not  a  word  of  independ- 
ence, however,  appears  in  Otis's  fervent  denun- 
ciation of  that  "  kind  of  power,  the  exercise  of 
which,  in  former  periods  of  English  history,  cost 
one  king  of  England  his  head,  and  another  his 
throne."  It  is  a  plea  for  "  English  liberty  " 
against  a  misguided  parliament,  and  it  is  plain 
that  John  Adams  flung  into  that  moulten  torrent 
the  glowing  hopes  of  his  own  ardent  soul. 


THE   GREAT   ADVOCATE   OF   INDEPENDENCE    79 

Fast  upon  the  heels  of  this  act  of  tyranny  came 
a  second,  "  the  Stamp  Act."  In  the  thrill  of 
indignant  resentment  which  possessed  the  colo- 
nists when  they  heard  of  the  passage  of  the  act, 
John  Adams  came  to  the  front.  "  I  drew  up  a 
petition  to  the  selectmen  of  Braintree,"  he  wrote 
in  his  diary,  "  and  procured  it  to  be  signed  by  a 
number  of  the  respectable  inhabitants,  to  call  a 
meeting  of  the  town  to  instruct  their  representa- 
tives in  relation  to  the  stamps."  Boston,  in  May, 
1764,  even  before  the  act  had  been  voted  by 
parliament,  had  denied,  in  resolutions  drawn  up 
by  Samuel  Adams,  the  right  of  parliament  to  tax 
the  colonies  without  their  consent.  This  was 
the  first  deliberate  protest.  Now,  in  1765,  with 
that  protest  unheeded,  backed  though  it  was  by 
other  provinces,  the  people  arrayed  themselves 
so  menacingly  against  the  act  that  parliament 
was  forced  to  recede.  From  Virginia's  House  of 
Burgesses,  in  May,  rang  through  the  land  Patrick 
Henry's  impassioned  "  if-this-be-treason  "  speech. 
Massachusetts  called  for  a  general  Congress,  and 
mobs  everywhere  terrorized  the  officials  appointed 
to  distribute  the  stamps.  The  Braintree  meet- 
ing was  held  on  the  24th  of  September,  Nor- 
ton Quincy  acting  as  moderator.  John  Adams 
modestly  records,  "  I  prepared  a  draught  of  in- 
structions at  home,  and  carried  them  with  me. 
The  cause  of  the  meeting  was  explained  at  some 
length,  and  the  state  and  danger  of  the  country 


80     WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

pointed  out ;  a  committee  was  appointed  to  pre- 
pare instructions,  of  which  I  was  nominated  as 
one.  My  draught  was  unanimously  adopted  with- 
out amendment,  reported  to  the  town,  and  ac- 
cepted without  a  dissenting  voice.  .  .  .  They 
rang  through  the  state  and  were  adopted  in  so 
many  words  ...  by  forty  towns,  as  instructions 
to  their  representatives."  That "  explanation  of 
the  cause  at  some  length,"  what  was  it  but  the 
earliest  of  those  clear,  forceful  and  statesmanlike 
utterances  which  made  him  the  "  Colossus  "  of 
the  debates  on  Independence  ?  To  Patrick  Henry 
ten  years  later  he  wrote,  "  I  know  of  none  so  com- 
petent to  the  task  (of  framing  a  constitution  for 
Virginia)  as  the  author  of  the  first  Virginia  reso- 
lutions against  the  Stamp  Act,  who  will  have  the 
glory  with  posterity  of  beginning  and  conclud- 
ing this  great  revolution."  Perhaps  the  Virginia 
orator  would  have  spoken  as  generously  of  John 
Adams  could  he  have  heard  the  echoes  of  his  ad- 
dress in  Braintree  town  meeting.  Both  had  a 
"  just  sense  of  our  rights  and  liberties,"  and  both 
gave  wings  to  that  battle-cry  of  the  Revolution, 
"  No  taxation  without  representation."  On  May 
16th,  1766,  the  glorious  news  was  announced  in 
Boston  that  a  vessel  belonging  to  John  Hancock 
had  brought  the  tidings  that  the  Stamp  Act  had 
been  repealed. 

Into    "  atmospheric    existence "    thus    highly 
charged  with  moral  and  patriotic  electricity  a  son 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE    81 

was  born  July  11,  1767.  The  next  day,  as 
was  then  the  practice,  parson  Wibird  was  called 
in,  and  the  child  was  baptized.  Grandmother 
Smith  was  there,  and  she  requested  that  he  should 
be  named  after  her  father,  the  aged  John  Quincy, 
who  then  lay  dying  in  his  home  at  Mount  Wollas- 
ton.  Long  afterwards  President  John  Quincy 
Adams  wrote  as  follows  of  this  transaction :  "  It 
was  filial  tenderness  that  gave  the  name.  It  was 
the  name  of  one  passing  from  earth  to  immor- 
tality. These  have  been  among  the  strongest 
links  of  my  attachment  to  the  name  of  Quincy, 
and  have  been  to  me  through  life  a  perpetual 
admonition  to  do  nothing  unworthy  of  it." 

Elevated  was  life  in  this  "  little  hut,"  but  it 
was  real,  genuine,  beautifully  domestic.  The 
scene  of  it,  visible  there  now  to  any  pious  pilgrim, 
and  reverently  preserved  in  many  of  its  antique 
appointments  by  the  Quincy  Historical  Society, 
assists  the  imagination  to  realize  its  noble  sim- 
plicity. The  dining-room  or  general  living  room, 
with  its  wide  open  fireplace,  is  where  the  young 
couple  would  most  often  pass  their  evenings,  and 
in  winter  would  very  likely  occupy  in  measureless 
content  a  single  settle,  roasting  on  one  side  and 
freezing  on  the  other.  The  kitchen,  full  of 
cheerful  bustle,  and  fragrant  as  the  spice  isles, 
how  it  would  draw  the  children  as  they  grew  up, 
the  little  John  Quincy  among  them  !  Here  they 
could  be  near  mother,  and  watch  her  with  absorb- 


82     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

ing  attention  as  she  superintended  the  cooking-, 
now  hanging  pots  of  savory  meats  on  the  crane, 
and  now  drawing  from  the  cavernous  depths  of 
the  brick  oven  the  pies  and  baked  beans  and  In- 
dian puddings  and  other  delicacies  of  those  days. 
We  can  more  easily  imagine  the  home  scene  when 
we  read  these  words  written  by  Mrs.  Adams  to 
her  husband  :  "  Our  son  is  much  better  than 
when  you  left  home,  and  our  daughter  rocks  him 
to  sleep  with  the  song  of  '  Come  papa,  come  home 
to  brother  Johnnie.'  '  "  Johnnie  !  "  is  the  dig- 
nified  President  and  "  old  man  eloquent "  that 
is  to  be. 

John  Adams  was  not  permitted  to  enjoy  without 
interruption  the  dear  delights  of  home  in  "  still, 
calm,  happy  Braintree."  To  extend  his  legal 
practice  he  removed  his  family  to  Boston.  There, 
in  that  centre  of  revolutionary  agitations,  he  min- 
gled with  Samuel  Adams,  and  Otis,  and  Josiah 
Quincy,  Jr.,  and  Dr.  Warren,  and  other  kindred 
spirits  ;  there  he  spent  evenings  with  the  Sons  of 
Liberty  in  Thomas  Dawes's  hall,  near  the  Liberty 
Tree  ;  there  the  British  troops,  put  into  the  town 
to  overawe  it,  drilled  before  his  house ;  and  there, 
about  nine  o'clock  of  the  5th  of  March,  1770, 
he  was  alarmed  by  the  ringing  of  bells,  and  hurry- 
ing out  was  informed  that  the  British  soldiers  had 
fired  on  the  inhabitants,  and  had  killed  some  and 
wounded  others,  near  the  town  house.  This  was 
the  "  Boston  Massacre,"  and  during  the  night 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE    83 

Captain  Preston  and  his  soldiers  were  arrested. 
"  The  next  morning,  I  think  it  was,"  writes  John 
Adams,  "  sitting  in  my  office  near  the  steps  of 
the  town  house  stairs,  Mr.  Forrest  came  in,  who 
was  then  called  the  Irish  Infant.  With  tears 
streaming  from  his  eyes  he  said,  '  I  am  come 
with  a  very  solemn  message  from  a  very  unfortu- 
nate man,  Captain  Preston,  in  prison.  He  wishes 
for  counsel,  and  can  get  none.  I  have  waited  on 
Mr.  Quincy,  who  says  he  will  engage  if  you  will 
give  him  your  assistance.'  I  had  no  hesitation  in 
answering  that  counsel  ought  to  be  the  very  last 
thing  an  accused  person  should  want  in  a  free 
country."  Why  John  Adams,  a  patriot,  should 
render  this  service  to  the  oppressors  of  his  peo- 
ple, amazed  many  of  his  fellow  citizens  ;  but  he 
himself,  speaking  of  it  later,  declared  it  to  be 
"  one  of  the  most  gallant,  manly,  and  disinter- 
ested actions  of  my  whole  life." 

To  the  great  detriment  of  both  his  health  and 
his  law  practice  he  was  carried  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  whirl  of  patriotic  agitation.  The  coming 
storm  now  lowered  darkly,  and  was  visible  enough 
in  the  imposition  of  new  taxes,  in  assaults  upon 
the  independence  of  the  judiciary,  in  the  Boston 
Tea  Party,  and  the  vengeful  Port  Bill.  Antici- 
pating the  worst,  John  Adams  moved  his  family 
back  to  Braintree.  How  much  he  longed  to 
abide  with  them  in  peace,  if  that  might  be,  is 
expressed  in  his  diary  :  "  I  should  have  thought 


81    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

myself  the  happiest  man  in  the  world  if  I  could 
have  retired  to  my  little  hut  and  forty  acres,  which 
my  father  left  me  in  Braintree,  and  lived  on  po- 
tatoes and  sea-weed  the  rest  of  my  life.  But  I 
had  taken  a  part,  I  had  adopted  a  system,  I  had 
encouraged  my  fellow  citizens,  and  I  could  not 
abandon  them  in  conscience  and  in  honor." 

That  system  was  the  Independence  of  his  coun- 
try, now  more  clearly  held  as  inevitable,  but  at 
that  time  a  thought  too  daring  to  be  accepted  by 
many.  His  cousin,  Samuel  Adams,  had  come  to 
a  like  conclusion  soon  after  1768  ;  besides  him, 
however,  few  or  none  went  with  John  Adams. 
These  two  were  joined  in  pleading  that  the  courts 
be  opened,  when  Governor  Hutchinson  closed 
them  for  not  complying  with  the  Stamp  Act. 
They  had  then  employed  the  most  radical  argu- 
ments, contending  that  neither  taxes  nor  laws 
should  be  imposed  upon  freemen  by  a  legisla- 
ture in  which  they  were  not  represented.  Again 
they  were  united  in  a  matter  of  vital  importance  : 
in  1774  they  with  two  others  were  appointed 
delegates  by  the  Massachusetts  Assembly  to  the 
First  Continental  Congress,  to  be  held  at  Phila- 
delphia. Of  one  mind  with  regard  to  the  attitude 
the  country  must  take  eventually,  they  soon 
learned  how  far  in  advance  they  were  of  the 
ideas  commonly  held.  Delegates  paled  at  the 
word  Independence.  Regiments  of  British  troops 
were  here  in  America,  and  more  were  coming,  to 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE  85 

enforce  submission  to  unjust  laws,  yet  the  idea 
of  separation  must  not  be  mentioned.  This  very 
Congress  of  protest,  in  an  address  to  the  king-, 
used  the  words,  "  Your  royal  authority  over  us 
and  our  connection  with  Great  Britain,  we  shall 
always  carefully  and  zealously  endeavor  to  sup- 
port and  maintain."  The  Adamses  were  as  yet 
powerless  to  advance  their  great  idea.  How- 
ever, they  had  only  to  abide  their  time ;  coming 
events  were  to  be  their  great  allies. 

Abigail  Adams,  left  in  the  Braintree  home,  is 
on  "  the  firing  line,"  a  witness  of  all  the  occur- 
rences which,  in  so  tragic  a  manner,  were  to  co- 
operate with  her  husband.  She  is  aflame  with 
indignation  at  the  oft-repeated  tales  of  the  inso- 
lence of  Gage's  troops  in  Boston  ;  she  is  the 
inspiration  of  her  patriot  neighbors  ;  she  is  in 
correspondence  with  Warren  and  other  leaders. 
When  the  storm  is  let  loose  in  the  whirlwind 
passion  of  Lexington  and  Concord,  her  home 
is  the  centre  of  excitement.  The  minute-men 
stream  along  the  highway  to  invest  Boston  ;  the 
militia  are  drilling  on  the  common  by  the  meeting- 
house ;  the  shores  are  guarded.  One  morning, 
on  the  appearance  of  three  sloops  and  a  cutter, 
**  the  people  come  flocking  this  way,  every  wo- 
man and  child  driven  off  from  below  my  father's, 
my  father's  family  flying."  Still  later  she  writes, 
"  My  house  is  in  confusion ;  soldiers  coming  in 
for  lodging,  for  breakfast,  for  supper,  for  drink. 


86     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

.  .  .  Sometimes  refugees  from  Boston,  tired  and 
fatigued,  seek  an  asylum  for  a  day,  a  night,  a 
week." 

Mr.  Adams,  now  attending  the  Second  Congress, 
is  anxious,  and  counsels  her  if  real  danger  threat- 
ens, to  fly  to  the  woods  with  the  children.  She  is 
"  distressed  but  not  dismayed."  The  excitement 
swells  and  rises  towering  to  the  17th  of  June, 
1775,  when,  as  Mrs.  Adams  writes,  "  the  day, 
perhaps  the  decisive  day,  is  come  on  which  the 
fate  of  America  depends."  At  early  dawn  the 
town  is  awakened  by  the  heavy  cannonading  of 
the  British  ships,  firing  against  the  breastworks 
thrown  up  on  Bunker  Hill.  "  The  constant  roar 
of  the  cannon  is  so  distressing  we  cannot  eat, 
drink  or  sleep."  Taking  with  her  the  little  John 
Quincy,  now  about  eight  years  old,  she  climbs 
the  neighboring  Penn's  Hill,  and  looks  toward 
Boston.  "  It  was  a  clear  June  day,"  writes  the 
younger  C.  F.  Adams,  "  and  across  the  blue  bay 
they  saw  against  the  horizon  the  dense,  black 
column  of  smoke  which  rolled  away  from  the 
burning;  houses  of  Charlestown.  Over  the  crest 
of  the  distant  hill  hung  the  white  clouds  which 
told  of  the  battle  going  on  beneath  the  smoke. 
There  was,  withal,  something  quite  dramatic  in 
the  scene ;  but,  as  the  two  sat  there,  silent  and 
trembling,  the  child's  hand  clasped  in  that  of  the 
mother,  thinking  now  of  what  was  taking  place 
before  their  eyes,  and  now  of  the  husband  and 


THE   GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF   INDEPENDENCE    87 

father  so  far  away  at  the  Congress,  they  little 
dreamed  of  the  great  future  for  him  and  for  the 
boy,  to  be  surely  worked  out  in  that  conflict,  the 
first  pitched  battle  of  which  was  then  being 
fought  out  before  them."  Next  day,  writing  to 
her  husband,  she  says,  "  My  bursting  heart  must 
find  vent  at  my  pen.  ...  I  have  just  heard  that 
our  dear  friend  Dr.  Warren  is  no  more,  but  fell 
gloriously  fighting  for  his  country ;  saying,  better 
to  die  honorably  in  the  field,  than  ignominiously 
hang  upon  the  gallows.  Great  is  our  loss.  .  .  . 
It  is  expected  [the  British]  will  come  out  over 
the  Neck  to-night,  and  a  dreadful  battle  must 
ensue.  Almighty  God  cover  the  heads  of  our 
countrymen,  and  be  a  shield  to  our  dear  friends! " 
At  the  very  hour  in  which  Abigail  Adams  and 
her  son  were  watching  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill, 
John  Adams,  with  sagacious  forethought,  was 
securing  the  election  of  Colonel  George  Wash- 
ington of  Virginia  as  commander-in-chief  of  the 
forces  of  the  colonies.  At  a  stroke  he  thus 
united  North  and  South,  and  committed  all 
the  colonies  to  the  war  for  liberty.  Henceforth 
these  two,  George  Washington,  the  great  captain 
of  the  Revolution,  and  John  Adams,  the  great 
statesman  of  the  Revolution,  loom  conspicuous 
in  those  troubled  times,  and  cease  not  their 
mighty  labors  till  they  have  won  freedom  and 
independence  for  a  people,  and  established  in 
strength  this  vast  Republic  of  the  West. 


88    WHERE  AMERICAN    [^DEPENDENCE  REGAN 

To  secure  the  pledge  of  the  whole  country  to 
take  up  the  cause  and  the  army  of  New  England 
was  certainly  a  great  achievement ;  it  was  no  less 
an  achievement  to  induce  the  whole  country  to 
speak  with  one  voice  the  word  Independence. 
Before  the  hattle  of  Lexington  he  hardly  dared 
breathe  the  thought  in  the  hearing  of  Congress. 
Almost  all  the  members  were  averse  to  such  a  step. 
His  ideas  are  contemptuously  spoken  of  as  the  rad- 
ical and  leveling  ideas  of  Massachusetts.  He  is 
"avoided  like  a  man  infected  with  the  leprosy." 
"Even  Washington,"  declares  John  Fiske,  "when 
he  came  to  take  command  of  the  army  at  Cam- 
bridge, after  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  had  not 
made  up  his  mind  that  the  object  of  the  war  was 
to  be  the  independence  of  the  colonies."  In  the 
same  month  of  July,  1775,  Jefferson  said  ex- 
pressly, "  We  have  not  raised  armies  with  designs 
of  separating  from  Great  Britain  and  establish- 
ing independent  states.  Necessity  has  not  yet 
driven  us  into  that  desperate  measure."  John 
Adams,  meanwhile,  schooled  himself  to  exercise 
patience,  which  was  not  exactly  one  of  his  vir- 
tues, and  with  suppressed  passion  waited  for  the 
hour  that  was  sure  to  strike.  "  I  am  obliged  to 
be  on  my  guard,"  he  writes,  "  yet  the  heat  within 
Avill  burst  forth  at  times."  Stubborn  strength 
of  will  is,  however,  one  of  the  very  elements  of 
the  Adams  make-up,  and  he  fought  on.  Lexing- 
ton and  Concord  and  Bunker  Hill  fought  with 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF   INDEPENDENCE    89 

him ;  these  and  the  rejection  by  the  King  of  the 
"  olive  branch  "  petition,  forced  a  hearing  of  his 
great  thought.  The  burning  of  Portland  assisted, 
so  also  did  the  publication  of  "  Common  Sense," 
by  Thomas  Paine.  In  March,  1776,  Abigail 
Adams  wrote :  "  I  am  charmed  with  the  senti- 
ments of  '  Common  Sense,'  and  wonder  how  an 
honest  heart,  one  who  wishes  the  welfare  of  his 
country  and  the  happiness  of  posterity,  can  hesi- 
tate one  moment  at  adopting  them.  I  want  to 
know  how  these  sentiments  are  received  in  Con- 
gress. I  dare  say  there  would  be  no  difficulty 
in  procuring  a  vote  and  instructions  from  all 
the  Assemblies  in  New  England  for  Independ- 
ency." 

And  now,  in  May,  Virginia  adopted  those  fa- 
mous instructions  to  her  delegates  in  Congress 
"  to  propose  to  that  respectable  body  to  declare 
the  United  Colonies  free  and  independent  states." 
Thus  encouraged,  John  Adams,  on  the  15th  of 
May,  urged  successfully  the  adoption  of  a  reso- 
lution recommending  all  the  colonies  to  form  for 
themselves  independent  governments.  In  the 
preamble,  which  he  wrote,  it  was  declared  that 
the  American  people  could  no  longer  conscien- 
tiously take  oath  to  support  any  government 
deriving  its  authority  from  the  Crown.  This 
preamble,  as  Fiske  says,  "  contained  within  itself 
the  gist  of  the  whole  matter.  To  adopt  it  was 
virtually  to  cross  the  Rubicon."     "The  Gordian 


90    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

knot  is  cut  at  last !  "  exclaimed  John  Adams. 
The  thoughts  of  men,  of  whole  provinces,  now 
rapidly  crystallized.  Richard  Henry  Lee,  "  tall 
and  commanding  in  person,  with  the  nohle  coun- 
tenance of  a  Roman,  the  courage  of  a  Caesar,  and 
the  eloquence  of  a  Cicero,"  submitted  to  Congress, 
on  the  7th  of  June,  1776,  a  motion  embodying 
the  instructions  of  Virginia.  In  the  precise  lan- 
guage, almost,  of  the  Virginia  Convention  he 
moved,  "  That  these  United  Colonies  are,  and  of 
right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent  States ; 
that  they  are  absolved  from  all  allegiance  to  the 
British  Crown,  and  that  all  political  connection 
between  them  and  the  state  of  Great  Britain,  is, 
and  ought  to  be,  totally  dissolved."  The  mo- 
tion was  seconded,  as  a  descendant  of  Patrick 
Henry  writes,  "by  the  glorious  old  John  Adams," 
and  "  Massachusetts  stood  side  by  side  with 
Virginia."  Debate  followed,  but  the  decision 
was  postponed  for  three  weeks.  Then,  on  the 
1st  of  July,  Congress  taking  up  the  "  resolution 
respecting  independency "  once  more,  John 
Adams  led  off  in  a  speech  of  surpassing  eloquence, 
and  a  "  power  of  thought  and  expression  which," 
said  Jefferson,  "  moved  the  members  from  their 
seats."  He  was  the  "  Colossus  of  that  Congress," 
as  Jefferson  again  testifies,  the  "  Atlas  of  Inde- 
pendence," as  Richard  Stockton  declared.  He 
compelled  conviction,  and,  at  last,  on  the  2d  of 
July,  the  flame  in   his   own  soul  fused  into  a 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE    91 

single  molten  current  the  aspirations  of  a  peo- 
ple, and  amid  the  glow  of  noble,  daring,  and 
fervent  speech,  the  resolutions  of  independency 
were  unanimously  adopted.  The  preparation  of 
the  immortal  Declaration  had  been  previously 
submitted  to  a  committee  consisting  of  Jefferson, 
Adams,  Franklin,  Sherman,  and  Livingston,  and 
on  the  evening  of  the  4th  of  July,  it  was  adopted 
with  equal  unanimity. 

Elated  and  thankful  was  John  Adams.  In  a 
burst  of  exultation  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Adams  : 
"  The  2d  day  of  July,  1776,  will  be  the  most 
memorable  epoch  in  the  history  of  America.  I 
am  apt  to  believe  that  it  will  be  celebrated  by 
succeeding  generations  as  the  great  anniversary 
festival.  It  ought  to  be  commemorated,  as  the 
day  of  deliverance,  by  solemn  acts  of  devotion 
to  God  Almighty.  It  ought  to  be  solemnized 
with  pomp  and  parade,  with  shows,  games,  sports, 
guns,  bells,  bonfires,  and  illuminations,  from  one 
end  of  the  continent  to  the  other,  from  this 
time  forward,  forevermore."  So  the  event  has 
been  celebrated,  but  the  4th  of  July,  the  date 
of  the  adoption  of  the  Declaration,  is  the  one 
the  people  recognize  as  the  culminating  moment 
of  the  great  event.  Then  there  suddenly  rose 
"  in  the  world  a  new  empire  styled  the  United 
States  of  America." 

Trumbull's  picture  of  the  signing  of  the 
Declaration  is  true  to  the  life.     John  Adams, 


92    WHERE   AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

vie win«*  it  in  Faneuil  Hall  in  his  later  years,  re- 
called that,  when  engaged  in  signing  it,  a  side 
conversation  took  place  between  Harrison,  who 
was  remarkably  corpulent,  and  Elbridge  Gerry, 
who  was  remarkably  thin.  "  Ah,  Gerry,"  said 
Harrison,  "  I  shall  have  an  advantage  over  you 
in  this  act."  "  How  so  ?  "  inquired  Gerry. 
"  Why,"  replied  Harrison,  "  when  we  come  to 
be  hung  for  this  treason,  I  am  so  heavy,  I  shall 
plump  down  upon  the  rope  and  be  dead  in  an 
instant ;  but  you  are  so  light,  that  you  will  be 
dangling  and  kicking  about  for  an  hour  in  the 
air." 

The  indomitable  patience,  the  conquering  per- 
sistence, of  John  Adams  at  Philadelphia,  were 
equaled  by  Abigail's  display  of  heroic  virtues  at 
home.  She  sustained  him  by  her  affection  and 
by  her  reenforcement  of  his  convictions.  "  Let 
us  separate  from  the  King's  party,"  she  exhorts. 
"  Let  us  renounce  them  and  instead  of  supplica- 
tion as  formerly,  let  us  beseech  the  Almighty  to 
blast  their  counsels  and  brine:  to  naught  all  their 
devices."  She  is  "  farm  woman,"  guiding  wisely 
the  sowing  and  the  reaping  which  is  to  bring 
her  children  bread  :  she  is  the  strength  of  her 
distracted  neighbors,  through  terrors  by  night 
and  day,  through  want,  and  through  the  horrors 
of  a  pestilence.  Her  home,  indeed,  is  a  centre 
of  life  and  hope  and  inspiration.  All  this  is 
luminous  in  those  remarkable  letters  which  have 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE    93 

done  so  much  to  make  known  her  great  virtues 
and  to  extend  her  fame.  During  these  exciting 
years  of  her  husband's  absence  the  young  John 
Quincy  is  a  great  comfort  to  her.  The  little 
fellow  when  barely  nine  years  old  fearlessly  be- 
comes her  "  post  rider,"  going  on  horseback  unat- 
tended over  the  eleven  lon£  miles  of  the  coun- 
try  road  to  Boston  for  letters.  And  now  she  is  to 
lose  both  the  boy  and  his  father.  Word  comes 
to  John  Adams,  in  November  of  1777,  then 
home  hardly  a  month  from  Congress,  announ- 
cing his  appointment  to  the  court  of  France.  So 
on  a  February  morning  Mr.  Adams  and  his  boy 
drive  down  to  Norton  Quincy's,  near  the  shore. 
The  mother  did  not  accompany  them,  feeling,  it 
is  likely,  hardly  equal  to  a  second  leave  taking. 
It  was  a  rough  mid-winter  voyage,  in  a  vessel  far 
from  staunch,  and  there  was  no  lack  of  excite- 
ment from  perilous  storms  and  possible  Eng- 
lish cruisers.  Mr.  Adams  exhibited  much  forti- 
tude and  practical  wisdom,  and  he  testified  that 
"  Johnnie  behaved  like  a  man."  In  this,  as  in 
all  his  missions  abroad,  John  Adams  comported 
himself  magnificently,  upholding  with  audacious 
courage  the  rights  and  honor  of  his  native  coun- 
try. He  was  as  unyielding  in  his  demands  for 
consideration  as  if  he  had  the  America  of  to-day 
behind  him,  and  secured,  in  treaties  of  peace  and 
commerce,  concessions  his  colleagues  had  deemed 
impossible. 


91     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

After  an  absence  of  eighteen  months  he  re- 
turned to  Braintree,  August  2,  1779,  landing  on 
the  very  beach  of  the  Mount  Wollaston  farm, 
close  to  Norton  Quincy's  house,  from  which  he 
had  embarked  a  year  and  a  half  before.  So  use- 
ful a  citizen  was  not  long  permitted  to  enjoy  the 
repose  and  delights  of  his  home.  Hardly  a  week 
had  passed  by  when  the  town  voted  to  send  a 
delegate  —  but  one,  though  others  were  called 
for  —  to  the  convention  which  was  to  frame  a 
State  constitution,  and  "  the  Hon'ble  John 
Adams,  Esq.,  was  chosen  for  that  purpose."  The 
convention  instructed  him  to  draw  up  a  draught 
for  its  consideration,  and  this,  as  Mellen  Cham- 
berlain writes,  furnished  the  model  for  the  Con- 
stitution of  Massachusetts  and  other  States,  and 
from  it  was  adopted  the  form  of  the  general 
government  in  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States.  "  Fifty  millions  of  people  to-day  live 
under  a  constitution  the  essential  features  of 
which  are  after  his  model." 

John  Adams  was  not  allowed  to  remain  with 
the  convention  long  enough  to  present  the  model 
himself.  He  was  again  sent  abroad,  and  the 
draught  was  passed  over  to  his  associates  on  the 
committee,  James  Bowdoin  and  Samuel  Adams. 
He  again  went  to  France  ;  this  time  to  assist  in 
the  negotiations  for  peace.  While  still  abroad 
he  was  in  May  of  1785  appointed  our  first  min- 
ister to  the  English  court.     At  that  time  he  was 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE  95 

in  London,  where  his  wife  had  joined  him  the 
year  before.  "  I  remember  her,"  wrote  Josiah 
Quincy,  describing  her  departure,  "  a  matronly 
beauty,  in  which  respect  she  yielded  to  few  of 
her  sex,  full  of  joy  and  elevated  with  hope. 
Peace  had  just  been  declared,  Independence  ob- 
tained, and  she  was  preparing  to  go  from  that 
humble  mansion  to  join  the  husband  she  loved 
at  the  Court  of  St.  James." 

Upon  their  return  to  America  Mr.  Adams  was 
immediately  appointed  once  more  a  delegate  to 
Congress,  but  before  he  had  time  to  serve  his 
country  in  that  capacity  he  was  elevated  to  the 
position  of  Vice-President.  This  office,  as  was 
then  the  rule,  went  to  the  person  who  received  the 
second  highest  vote  for  President.  Washington 
and  John  Adams,  one  in  character  and  patri- 
otism, united  to  lead  the  New  Republic  on  its 
untried  way  !  What  an  exalted  illustration  was 
that  of  the  ideal  of  representative  government, 
the  choice  of  the  best  men  for  rulers !  Loyally 
Adams  labored  with  Washington  through  the 
eight  years  of  his  administration,  and  then,  in 
1797,  he  himself  was  elected  to  the  Presidency. 
Four  stormier,  more  exacting  years  had  not 
fallen  to  his  lot  than  these  in  which  he  was  now 
put  foremost  to  assist  the  country  to  adjust  it- 
self to  its  internal  and  external  relations.  Wash- 
ing-ton's second  term  had  been  more  harassing", 
perturbed,  and   exacting   than    the   first.     The 


96    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

country  was  restless  in  the  uncertainty  of  its 
attitude  toward  England  and  France  in  their 
gigantic  conflict ;  the  raw  material  of  free  citi- 
zenship was  not  yet  consolidated  into  a  nation  ; 
local  attachments  had  not  been  modified,  nor 
jealousies  expelled  by  the  power  of  a  wider 
patriotism.  All  these  excitants  of  irritation, 
augmented,  were  bequeathed  to  the  administra- 
tion of  John  Adams.  Through  bitterest  parti- 
san strife,  through  the  selfish  intrigues  of  the 
French,  through  the  domineering  of  the  Eng- 
lish, he  never  was  less  than  noble.  Passionately 
he  resented  what  he  felt  to  be  injustice,  impa- 
tiently he  girded  at  plain  stupidity.  The  Adamses 
are  born  that  way  ;  they  are  not  conspicuous  for 
meekness.  But  the  welfare  of  the  country  was 
his  supreme  care,  and  for  that  he  esteemed  no 
sacrifice  too  great. 

His  administration,  it  is  not  to  be  denied,  was 
admirable  in  its  strength.  With  the  vigorous 
practical  sense  so  characteristic  of  him,  he  saw 
things  just  as  they  were,  measured  accurately 
the  human  elements  and  tendencies  in  the  great 
adversaries  that  threatened  from  foreign  shores, 
instinctively  divined  the  right  and  the  possible. 
Consequently  the  lines  of  his  policy  took  on  a 
permanent  character  not  to  be  set  aside  by  the 
"  peaceable  coercion  "  or  other  theories  of  his 
successor.  He  held  the  new  nation  to  its  predes- 
tined course  with  firm  grasp,  however  strong  the 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE    97 

sweep  of  deflecting  currents  or  wildly  tempestuous 
the  seas.  Time  has  justified  his  chief  measures, 
and  none  more  than  the  inception  of  that  navy 
which  in  these  later  days  has  gained  for  our  na- 
tion so  much  renown.  This  was  congenial  work, 
for  there  was  deep  in  him  an  irrepressible  Ber- 
serker element.  The  rage  of  fight  was  easily 
aroused  in  him  for  a  just  cause.  "  Above  all,  war, 
for  a  profession,"  is  what  he  thought  of  in  start- 
ing out  in  life,  and  while  the  Revolution  lasted, 
his  hand  itched  to  grasp  the  sword. 

For  a  republic  so  divinely  born,  and  watched 
over  still  by  the  venerated  founders,  the  amount 
of  original  sin  developed  was  surprising.  Jeal- 
ousies, misunderstandings,  intrigues,  party  pas- 
sions, were  sorrowfully  proportionate,  in  volume 
and  intensity,  to  what  humbles  us  in  these  degen- 
erate days.  And  most  unexpected  of  all,  for  its 
touch  of  ingratitude,  was  the  uprising  of  "  un- 
girt "  democracy  against  the  straight-laced,  dig- 
nified, and  ideal  statesmanship  of  Washington 
and  Adams.  John  Adams  failed  of  reelection  to 
a  second  term.  He  was  deeply  hurt ;  cut  to  the 
heart.  Frank  and  open  as  the  day,  and  altogether 
devoted  to  his  country,  he  hated  with  a  perfect 
hatred  the  underground  scheming  and  self-seek- 
ing which  he  was  persuaded  had  confused  and 
perverted  the  judgment  of  the  people.  Majestic 
as  Lear  in  his  indignation  and  wrath,  he  turned 
his  face  eastward,  not  waiting  to  greet  his  sue- 


98    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

cessor,  Thomas  Jefferson.  Discourteous,  was  it? 
Pardonable,  for  all  that,  as  the  fling  of  an  hon- 
est man  who  could  not  bring  his  soul  to  dissem- 
ble in  a  last  official  function. 

The  disappointment  over  his  defeat  for  a 
second  term  was  almost  balanced  by  the  joy  of 
return  to  "  still,  calm,  happy  Braintree."  That 
part  of  it  in  which  he  lived  had  been  set  off  in 
1792,  and  called  Quincy,  after  John  Quincy, 
whose  name  Mr.  Adams  had  given  to  his  own 
son.  Not  to  the  "  little  hut  "  did  he  return,  how- 
ever, but  to  a  habitation  more  in  keeping  with 
his  station.  This  was  the  house  of  Leonard  Vas- 
sal], a  West  India  planter,  which,  after  the  Rev- 
olution, had  been  sequestrated  as  Tory  property. 
It  was  built  in  1731,  and  Mr.  Adams  bought  it 
in  1785.  The  Vassalls  were  genteel  people,  and 
rigid  Episcopalians.  Mr.  Vassall,  before  his  mar- 
riage, made  a  will  with  the  provision  that  his 
widow  should  have  the  use  and  improvement  of 
his  real  estate  so  long  as  she  continued  "  a  pro- 
fessed member  of  the  Episcojml  Church  of  Eng- 
land." The  house  in  Quincy  was  used  as  a  sum- 
mer resort,  and  still  contains  one  room  paneled 
from  floor  to  ceiling  in  solid  St.  Domingo  mahog- 
any. Originally  a  small  dwelling,  it  has  been 
added  to  until  the  earlier  structure  is  almost  lost 
in  the  wide  front  and  deep  gabled  wings  of  the 
later  structure. 

Here  John  Adams  and  his  wife  were  to  spend 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE    99 

the  remainder  of  their  clays,  honored  by  their 
townspeople,  visited  by  eminent  foreigners  and 
by  adoring  Americans.  Here  they  celebrated 
their  golden  wedding,  and  here  too,  marvelous 
to  relate,  was  celebrated  the  golden  wedding  of 
their  son  John  Quincy  Adams,  and  that  of  their 
grandson,  Charles  Francis  Adams.  What  testi- 
mony is  this  to  the  vitality  of  the  Adams  family  ! 
John  Adams  never  seemed  to  have  any  declin- 
ing years.  In  his  retirement  he  continued  to  rise 
as  early  as  four  or  five  o'clock,  often  building 
his  own  fire.  When  the  weather  permitted  he 
walked  up  the  lane  opposite  his  house  to  the  top 
of  "  Presidents'  Hill,"  twice  every  day,  to  see  the 
sun  rise  and  set.  And  on  Sunday,  whatever  the 
weather,  he  attended  divine  service  at  the  church 
of  his  fathers.  With  sympathetic  observation  he 
noted  the  continuous  advance  of  a  more  genial 
and  spiritual  religion  gaining  upon  the  leaden 
atmosphere  of  New  England  theology.  Excellent 
were  his  opportunities  in  this  regard,  for  the 
ablest  ministers  in  Massachusetts  sought  ex- 
changes with  Parson  Whitney  of  the  Quincy 
church.  Josiah  Quincy,  in  his  "  Figures  of  the 
Past,"  conducts  us  into  the  old  meeting-house, 
crowded  with  its  farmer  folk,  its  village  aristo- 
cracy, its  judges,  captains,  and  distinguished  visi- 
tors ;  and  we  can  almost  see  in  the  front  pew  on 
the  right  of  the  broad  aisle  the  dignified  form 
of  the  President. 


100    WHERE    AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

"  An  air  of  respectful  deference  to  John 
Adams  seemed  to  pervade  the  building.  The 
ministers  brought  their  best  sermons  when  they 
came  to  exchange,  and  had  a  certain  conscious- 
ness in  their  manner  as  if  officiating  before  roy- 
alty. The  medley  of  stringed  and  wind  instru- 
ments in  the  gallery — a  survival  of  the  sacred 
trumpets  and  shawms  mentioned  by  King  David 
—  seemed  to  the  imagination  of  a  child  to  be 
making  discord  together  in  honor  of  the  vener- 
able chief  who  was  the  centre  of  interest." 

In  the  rural  surroundings  of  his  Quincy  home 
John  Adams  met  Lafayette  for  the  last  time. 
When  they  were  both  younger  they  had  associ- 
ated on  intimate  terms  in  France  and  in  America. 
Together  they  had  gone  through  the  great  strug- 
gle for  American  independence,  and  now  when 
that  struggle  was  all  behind  them,  and  Lafayette 
as  well  as  himself  was  advanced  in  years,  they 
were  to  meet  again  for  a  moment,  and  then  to 
part  forever.  With  much  emotion  the  President 
waited  for  his  guest.  When  Lafayette  appeared 
he  rose  to  meet  him,  and  the  two  venerable  men 
threw  their  arms  about  each  other's  neck,  and 
lifted  up  their  voices  and  wept.  Afterwards 
Lafayette  visited  the  Quincys.  "  That  was  not 
the  John  Adams  I  remember,"  he  said,  —  a 
thought  which  also  came  to  Mr.  Adams,  who 
said,  "  That  was  not  the  Lafayette  I  remember." 
Forty  years  had  made  a  great  difference.     Two 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE    101 

little  grandchildren  of  the  President,  Elizabeth  C. 
Adams  and  Isaac  Hull  Adams,  begged  to  be  al- 
lowed to  remain  in  the  room,  and  saw  the  whole 
scene.  Elizabeth  is  living  to-day  (1902,  aged 
ninety-four),  and  her  memory  of  all  that  took 
place  then  is  vivid,  and  connects  us  directly  with 
that  distant  time.  She  occupies  the  old  house 
of  their  father,  Chief  Justice  Thomas  Boylston 
Adams,  on  Elm  Street,  Quincy. 

In  his  last  days  John  Adams  became  recon- 
ciled to  Thomas  Jefferson,  and  together  they 
carried  on  a  friendly  correspondence  :  now  at  the 
solemn  close  they  were  to  be  associated  in  a  man- 
ner strikingly  dramatic  and  appropriate.  "  On 
the  4th  of  July,  1826,"  writes  C.  F.  Adams,  the 
younger,  "  the  town  celebrated  with  special  re- 
joicings the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  Independence. 
It  was  celebrated  as  its  sturdiest  supporter  had 
fifty  years  before  predicted  it  would  be,  as  '  a 
day  of  deliverance,  with  pomp  and  parade,  with 
shows,  games,  sports,  guns,  bells,  bonfires,  and 
illuminations.'  "  On  that  fair  glad  day  —  in  the 
midst  of  peace  and  prosperity  and  political  good 
feeling,  with  the  sound  of  joyous  bells  and  boom- 
ing guns  ringing  in  his  ears,  with  his  own  toast 
of  "  Independence  forever "  still  lingering  on 
the  lips  of  his  townsmen  —  the  spirit  of  the 
old  patriot  passed  away.  His  last  words  were, 
"  Thomas  Jefferson  still  survives."  But  Jeffer- 
son, too,  had  passed  away  a  few  hours  earlier  on 
that  memorable  Independence  Day. 


102     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

"His  beloved  and  only  wife,"  Abigail,  had  died 
some  eight  years  before  this,  on  the  28th  of 
October,  1818.  That  union  of  more  than  half  a 
century  had  been  as  ideal  as  our  humanity  may 
illustrate.  "  They  survived  in  harmony  of  sen- 
timent, principle,  and  affection  the  tempests  of 
civil  commotion  ;  meeting  undaunted  and  sur- 
mounting the  terrors  and  trials  of  that  Revolu- 
tion  which  secured  the  freedom  of  their  country, 
improved  the  condition  of  their  times,  and  bright- 
ened the  prospects  of  futurity  to  the  race  of  man 
upon  earth."  So  enduring,  so  perfect,  so  benefi- 
cent generally  had  been  this  union  that  it  seems 
as  though  in  the  scheme  of  things  they  should 
have  lived  together  to  the  end,  and  in  a  day  have 
been  summoned  to  that  eternal  companionship 
in  which,  neither  marrying  nor  given  in  mar- 
riage, they  are  "  like  the  angels  which  are  in 
heaven."  The  desolation  of  the  years  of  sepa- 
ration bore  heavily  upon  John  Adams,  but  he 
was  sustained  by  his  Christian  faith  and  habitual 
acceptance  of  all  which  the  Divine  order  imposed. 
Besides  the  famous  John  Quincy  they  had  four 
other  children  :  Abigail,  born  July  14, 1765,  who 
married  H.  W.  Smith  ;  Susanna,  born  December 
28,  1768,  who  died  in  1770 ;  Charles,  born  May 
29, 1770,  who  married  Sarah  Smith,  and  Thomas 
Boylston,  born  September  15, 1772,  who  married 
Ann  Harod. 

Moved,  as  John  Adams  expressed  it,  "  by  the 


as     + 


S  * 


O    ~ 


d    1 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE  103 

veneration  he  felt  for  the  residence  of  his  ances- 
tors and  the  place  of  his  nativity,  and  the  habitual 
affection  he  bore  to  the  inhabitants  with  whom 
he  had  so  happily  lived  for  more  than  eighty-six 
years,"  he  left  his  large  and  valuable  library  to 
the  town  of  Quincy,  and  gave  lands  for  the  sup- 
port of  a  school  for  the  teaching  of  the  Greek 
and  Roman  languages,  and,  if  thought  advisable, 
the  Hebrew.  In  1871  the  Academy  building  was 
erected  on  the  site  of  the  house  in  which  John 
Hancock  was  born.  A  gift  as  generous  was  also 
made  to  the  ancient  First  Church,  with  which  he 
and  all  his  ancestors  had  been  activly  connected, 
enabling  it  to  build  in  place  of  the  old  wooden 
structure  a  stately  stone  temple  of  worship.  It 
was  finished  in  1828,  and  under  its  portico  his 
remains  and  those  of  his  wife  were  eventually 
entombed.  There,  in  a  square  chamber  solidly 
walled  with  granite,  and  closed  with  iron  doors, 
they  rest  side  by  side  in  two  immense  granite 
sarcophagi,  "  till  the  trump  shall  sound,"  as  a 
mural  tablet  within  the  church  declares. 

In  connection  with  this  Quincy  celebration  of 
the  Fourth,  John  Adams  sent  to  his  fellow  citi- 
zens of  the  United  States  his  last  deliberate  mes- 
sage on  Independence.  The  following  letter,  now 
first  brought  to  light,  has  been  preserved  among 
her  family  papers  by  Mrs.  Abigail  Whitney, 
formerly  of  Quincy,  but  now  living  with  her 
daughter,  Mrs.  William  R.  Poison  of  Brooklyn, 


lul     WHERE    AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

N.  Y.  Mrs.  Whitney  is  the  widow  of  William  F. 
Whitney,  a  nephew  of  the  Captain  John  Whitney 
to  whom  the  letter  is  addressed.  The  italics  fol- 
low the  underscoring  of  the  dictation,  and  make 
more  manifest  the  fact  that  the  aged  patriot  was 
conscious  that  these  were  his  last  words  upon  the 
great  principle  to  which  he  had  devoted  his  life. 
How  weighty  they  are  with  his  soul's  conviction  ! 
What  force  of  will  constrained  the  trembling  hand 
to  write  the  signature,  perhaps  his  last ! 

Qotncy,  June  7,  1826. 
Captain  John  Whitney,  Chairman  of  the  Committee  of 
arrangements,  for  celebrating  the  approaching  Anniver- 
sary of  the  £th  of  July  in  the  town  of  Quincy. 

Sir,  —  Your  letter  of  the  3d  Instant,  written  on  behalf 
of  the  Committee  of  Arrangements,  for  the  approaching  cele- 
bration of  our  National  Independence,  inviting  me  to  dine, 
on  the  Fourth  of  July  next,  with  the  citizens  of  Quincy,  at 
the  Town  Hall,  has  been  received  with  the  kindest  emo- 
tions. The  very  respectful  language  with  which  the  wishes 
of  my  Fellow  Townsmen  have  been  conveyed  to  me  by  your 
Committee,  and  the  terms  of  affectionate  regard  toward  me 
individually,  demand  my  grateful  thanks,  which  you  will 
please  to  accept  and  to  communicate  to  your  Colleagues  of 
the  Committee. 

The  present  feeble  state  of  my  health  will  not  permit  me 
to  indulge  the  hope  of  participating,  with  more  than  by  my 
best  wishes  in  the  joys  and  festivities  and  the  solemn  services 
of  that  day  ;  on  which  will  be  completed  the  fiftieth  year 
from  its  birth,  the  Independence  of  these  United  States.  A 
memorable  epoch  in  the  annals  of  the  human  race ;  des- 
tined, in  future  history,  to  form  the  brightest  or  the  blackest 
page,  according  to  the  use  or  the  abuse  of  those  political  in- 


THE  GREAT  ADVOCATE  OF  INDEPENDENCE    105 

stitutions  by  which  they  shall,  in  time  to  come,  be  shaped  by 
the  human  mind. 

I  pray  you,  sir,  to  tender  in  my  behalf  to  our  fellow  citi- 
zens my  cordial  thanks  for  their  affectionate  good  wishes, 
and  to  be  assured  that  I  am 


VI 

THE    PURITAN    PRESIDENT,  JOHN    QUINCY   ADAMS. 

John  Adams  lived  long  enough  to  rejoice  in 
the  election  of  his  son  John  Quincy  Adams  to 
the  Presidency.  Modestly,  in  a  brief  note,  the 
one  writes  of  his  election,  devoutly  the  other  gives 
his  patriarchal  blessing.  Such  a  conjunction 
stands  alone  in  our  history.  It  so  affected  the 
imagination  of  some  opponents  that  they  flung 
out  insinuations  of  a  revival  of  monarchical  insti- 
tutions in  this  bringing;  in  of  "  John  the  Second 
of  the  House  of  Braintree."  But  it  was  by  his 
own  strength  of  character,  his  wide  intelligence, 
his  exalted  virtues,  and  his  measureless  service, 
that  John  Quincy  Adams  won  this  tribute  from 
the  nation,  and  not  because  he  was  the  son  of  his 
father.  Great  men  were  they  both  ;  among  the 
greatest  whom  America  honors.  Do  we  curiously 
inquire  which  was  the  more  towering  figure  ?  It 
were  no  easy  task  to  try  to  set  one  above  the 
other.  The  elder  may  have  excelled  in  original 
power,  but  the  younger  surpassed  in  learning.  In 
both  was  the  moral  earnestness  of  the  Puritan, 
and  the  indomitable  will  which  forces  the  subject 
brain  and  heart  to  do  marvels,  and  wrests  from 


THE  PURITAN   PRESIDENT  107 

the  gods  gifts  for  man  before  they  are  quite 
due. 

Through  what  a  strange  and  varied  career  John 
Quincy  Adams  climbed  to  equal  eminence  with  his 
father  !  In  foreign  lands  and  in  Washington  the 
greater  part  of  his  life  was  lived,  far  distant  from 
his  native  town  ;  nevertheless  it  was  in  Quincy 
that  the  pure  gold  of  his  inherited  nature  received 
the  royal  stamp  which  the  friction  of  years  only 
wore  brighter.  As  a  boy,  standing  there  on 
Penn's  Hill  with  his  mother,  his  soul  thrilling  in 
response  to  the  thunders  of  Bunker  Hill,  he  was 
established  in  the  elements  of  character  which 
made  the  man.  Dutiful,  unselfish,  sensible,  fine 
in  every  instinct,  "  wisdom  his  early,  only  choice," 
he  was  about  as  near  the  ideal  child  of  an  ideal 
Puritan  home  as  New  England  might  produce. 
Not  in  any  priggish  or  formal  sense  was  he  this. 
He  was  a  genuine  boy,  unhurt  by  the  serious  at- 
mosphere of  his  home  ;  full  of  life,  loving  the 
woodlands,  playing  at  soldier  with  the  Colonials 
who  camped  in  his  father's  barn  on  their  way  to 
the  front,  and  finding  it  hard  among  so  many 
distractions  to  get  down  to  his  books.  Indeed, 
he  thought  he  would  rather  work  on  the  farm 
than  study.  After  a  day's  test  at  ditching  he 
went  back  to  his  dry  Latin  grammar  with  much 
content.  He  matured  rapidly,  that  is  the  point, 
for  he  was  teachable  and  the  right  principles  were 
in  him.     While  yet  a  boy  he  was  manly.     He 


108    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

astonished  even  his  mother.  When  she  was  united 
to  him  in  London,  he  then  sixteen  years  of  age, 
she  cried  out  that  his  appearance  "  is  that  of  a 
man,  and  in  his  countenance  the  most  perfect 
good  humor  ;  his  conversation  by  no  means  de- 
nies his  stature."  And  why  should  he  not  be  all 
this  !  Europe  had  been  an  open  page  before  him. 
At  Paris,  at  Amsterdam,  at  Ley  den,  his  eyes  were 
filled  and  his  soul  was  fed  with  scenes  and  books 
and  the  ways  of  men.  When  not  quite  fourteen 
he  actually  found  himself  launched  upon  a  diplo- 
matic career,  going  to  Russia  with  envoy  Dana, 
and  back  at  Paris,  serving  as  additional  secretary 
to  Jefferson,  Franklin,  and  his  father  in  negoti- 
ating the  final  treaty  with  Great  Britain. 

How  fascinating  this  life  must  have  been  to 
him  !  and  now  that  his  father  was  minister  to  the 
Court  of  St.  James,  and  his  mother  residing  in 
London  with  him,  what  a  temptation  there  was  to 
continue  it !  And  he  might  have  done  so,  but 
for  that  Puritan  conscience  of  his.  Oxford,  se- 
questered "  in  the  quiet  and  still  air  of  delightful 
studies  "  allured  him.  Subscription  to  the  Thir- 
ty-Nine Articles,  however,  stood  in  the  way,  an 
obstacle  not  to  be  surmounted.  He  could  not  so 
stultify  himself  as  to  sign  what  he  did  not  believe, 
nor  would  his  father  encourage  such  stultifica- 
tion. This,  and  the  conviction  that  in  America 
he  could  "  get  his  own  living  in  an  honorable 
manner,"  and  "  live  independent  and  free,"  de- 


JOHN    (jO'lNCY    ADAMS 


LOl  ISA   CATHERINE   ADAMS 


THE  PURITAN  PRESIDENT  109 

cided  him  to  return  home  and  enter  Harvard  Col- 
lege. 

Along  these  lines  his  nature,  according  to  its 
kind,  unfolded  in  fresh  surprises  of  fortitude, 
resourcefulness,  noble  daring,  and  passion  for 
justice.  Sturdily  independent  as  he  was  from 
the  beginning,  and  disciplined  to  do  his  duty  at 
all  costs,  he  was  yet  tolerant  where  tolerance  was 
a  virtue ;  friendly  too  in  that  early  day,  with  a 
fine  flavor  of  poetry  and  a  deep  sense  of  piety 
refining  all  his  aspirations.  Stern  and  grim  he 
came  to  be ;  but  it  was  the  bitter  conflict  thrust 
upon  him  that  made  him  so.  And  what  a  fighter 
he  was  !  How  prompt  and  hard  he  hit !  How 
fearless,  facing  alone  a  host  of  foes !  A  hero, 
grand  among  the  great  figures  of  the  world; 
our  Cromwell !  America's  completest  realization 
of  Puritanism  in  its  strength  ! 

Let  us  recall  the  earlier  picture,  however,  —  the 
young  man  of  thirty,  so  intellectual,  so  ideal, 
spiritual,  as  painted  by  Copley  ;  for  this  is  the 
year  in  which  he  married  Louisa  Catherine  John- 
son. She  was  the  second  daughter  of  Joshua 
Johnson,  then  American  consul  at  London,  and 
a  niece  of  Governor  Johnson  of  Maryland,  signer 
of  the  Declaration  and  justice  of  the  Supreme 
Court.  Mr.  Adams  met  her  in  London,  where 
by  request  of  Washington  he,  the  minister  to  the 
Hague,  had  gone  to  assist  in  some  negotiations. 
They  were  married  on  the  morning  of  July  26, 


110     WHERE  AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

1707,  in  the  Church  of  All  Hallows,  Barking. 
Their  honeymoon  abroad  seemed  destined  to  be 
brief,  for  John  Adams  was  elected  President  soon 
after  this,  and  he  and  John  Quincy  both  felt  that 
a  nice  regard  for  the  proprieties  of  politics  called 
for  the  resignation  of  the  son.  But  Washington 
wrote  promptly  to  President  Adams  urging  him 
to  retain  John  Quincy,  "  the  most  valuable  public 
character  we  have  abroad,  and  the  ablest  of  all 
our  diplomatic  corps."  So  he  continued  in  his 
mission  to  the  Hague  till  the  election  of  Jefferson, 
four  years  later. 

Ended  apparently  was  his  public  career,  at 
least  for  some  time,  and  he  sturdily  turned  to 
the  practice  of  law.  But  it  was  only  the  quiet 
moment  before  the  tumult  of  the  storm, —  the 
brief  calm  dividing  between  the  life  of  plain, 
if  masterly,  sailing,  and  the  deadly,  unremitting 
struggle  with  the  black  rage  of  elemental  pas- 
sions let  loose  from  the  pit.  And  the  marvel  of 
it  is,  he  never  lost  his  hold  on  the  helm,  and, 
however  baffled,  never  failed  to  bring  his  ship  to 
the  course  laid  down  by  conscience.  For  politi- 
cal honesty  and  lofty  patriotism  history  will  be 
searched  in  vain  for  a  statesman  surpassing  him. 
The  high  Roman  manner  was  bettered  in  his 
Christian  devotion  to  ideal  right.  "  He  never 
knowingly,"  as  John  T.  Morse,  Jr.,  declares,  "  did 
wrong,  nor  even  sought  to  persuade  himself  that 
wrong  was  right."   And  vigorously  was  this  virtue 


THE  PURITAN  PRESIDENT  111 

manifested,  —  not  cloister-like,  but  frankly  and 
ruggedly,  and  mixed  with  wholesome  human  an- 
ger. There  was  the  man  for  the  times,  every  inch 
of  him,  "  the  Baresark  marrow  in  his  bones  "  ! 
Just  the  man  for  these  times  too,  if  we  had  the 
wit  to  perceive  it ;  but  our  idols  must  be  machine 
made,  patterned  according  to  party  creed,  no 
uncalculable  touch  of  the  Almighty's  hand  in 
them. 

Almost  always  when  John  Quincy  Adams's  name 
is  uttered,  deprecatory  hands  are  raised  at  remem- 
brance of  his  relentless  scoring  of  contemporaries. 
It  was  "thorough  ;"  that  word,  dear  to  Puritan- 
ism, is  graphic,  —  no  one  was  left  out,  and  he 
had  an  instinct  for  the  vital  defects  of  opponents. 
In  that  diary  of  his,  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able ever  written,  both  for  volume  and  the  value 
of  its  information,  his  denunciations  are  flung 
right  and  left  impartially.  Be  it  noted,  however, 
that  this  is  never  done  cynically.  Angrily  and 
bitterly  he  strikes  out,  and  it  is  all  because  his 
victims  seem  to  fall  so  far  below  the  ideal  when 
ideal  men  and  measures  were  so  sorely  needed. 
For  this  he  never  spared  others,  he  never 
spared  himself.  "  The  stars  were  not  clean  in 
his  sight."  His  high  ideals  were  his  glory  and 
his  sorrow.  "  Never  did  a  man  of  pure  life  and 
just  purposes,"  says  Morse,  "  have  fewer  friends 
or  more  enemies  than  John  Quincy  Adams." 
Tender-hearted  as  he  was,  it  was  no  less  than 


112    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

traffic.  "  An  a£e  of  sorrow  and  a  life  of  storm," 
are  the  words  he  wrote  late  in  life  under  his  own 
portrait.  These  ideals,  so  largely  responsible  for 
the  lamentable  issue,  were  not  poor  limited  preju- 
dices, puritanical  in  the  popular  sense,  but  high 
and  humane, —  genuine  revelations  of  the  eternal, 
worthy  visions  for  the  man  who  nobly  aspires  and 
a  nation  which  renews  the  hope  of  the  world. 
Naturally  they  made  him  impatient  with  what 
seemed  the  life-wasting  distractions  of  some  and 
the  degenerate  self-seeking  of  others.  While  in 
Ghent,  laboring  for  the  most  favorable  terms  of 
peace,  he  cannot  withhold  his  scorn  when,  rising 
at  five  in  the  morning  to  begin  the  work  of  the 
day,  he  hears  parties  breaking  up  and  leaving  Mr. 
Clay's  room  across  the  entry,  where  they  have  been 
playing  cards  all  night  long.  His  self-restraint 
and  self -discipline  gradually  enveloped  him  in  a 
reserve  which  was  taken  to  be  lack  of  sympathy 
and  excess  of  aristocratic  pride.  The  genial 
current  of  his  soul  seemed  to  the  undiscerning 
to  be  frozen.  But  no  leader  in  our  democracy 
ever  dedicated  himself  more  entirely  to  the  de- 
fence and  establishment  of  equal  rights.  He 
would  not  truckle  to  any,  nor  with  false  bland- 
ishments seek  to  win  the  plain  man  of  the  people. 
He  respected  himself,  and  he  respected  others  as 
highly  as  himself.  The  sacredness  of  the  human 
soul  he  felt  as  deeply  as  did  his  favorite  minister, 
Dr.  Channing.     He  was  in  the  grandest  sense 


THE   PURITAN  PRESIDENT  113 

an  absolute  democrat.  As  Theodore  Parker  elo- 
quently declared,  "  he  fought,  not  for  a  kingdom, 
not  for  fame,  but  for  justice  and  the  eternal 
right ;  fought,  too,  with  weapons  tempered  in  a 
heavenly  stream."  Every  day  was  begun  with 
the  reading  of  a  chapter  or  tAvo  in  the  Bible,  and 
every  day  was  closed  with  that  petition  learned 
at  his  mother's  knee,  "  Now  I  lay  me  down  to 
sleep." 

Greatest  and  last  of  the  Puritans  was  he,  a 
figure  growing  ever  greater  in  the  ethical  per- 
spective of  human  advancement.  He  could  be 
no  partisan.  He  was  too  much  of  an  American 
for  that,  as  was  soon  made  plain.  The  Federal- 
ists of  Boston  drew  him  from  his  retirement  by 
electing  him  in  1802  to  the  state  Senate,  and 
in  1803  to  the  national  Senate.  At  the  out- 
set he  voted  for  what  he  thought  was  wise  and 
right,  without  regard  to  the  claims  of  party  ;  and 
when  the  Federalists  threw  themselves  abjectly 
at  the  feet  of  England,  fearing  the  selfish  in- 
trigues of  France,  he  would  have  no  part  in  the 
humiliation.  "  Put  your  trust  in  neither  France 
nor  England  ;  let  America  trust  itself,"  was  his 
counsel.  The  increasing  arrogance  of  the  Brit- 
ish, their  impressment  of  our  seamen,  their  de- 
struction of  our  commerce,  enraged  him.  Better 
resistance,  though  almost  hopeless,  than  supine 
endurance  of  such  wrongs.  Culminating  atrocity ! 
The  English  gunboat  Leopard  opened  her  broad- 


114     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

sides  upon  our  unprepared  frigate,  the  Chesa- 
peake, killing  and  maiming  her  seamen,  and 
drasrsrina:  from  anions:  them  four  men  charged 
with  being  British  subjects.  Adams  summoned 
the  Federalists  to  crowd  Faneuil  Hall  with  an 
indignation  meeting,  and  when  they  delayed  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  attend  a  similar  meeting  of 
the  Jeffersonians.  For  this  he  was  branded  as 
a  traitor  to  his  party,  and  his  successor  to  the 
Senate  was  nominated  insultingly  early.  Cost 
what  it  might,  this  was  the  kind  of  thing  Mr. 
Adams  was  always  ready  to  do.  His  reverence 
for  his  country  and  her  institutions  was  so  pro- 
found he  could  do  nothing  unworthy  of  them. 

Madison  appointed  him  minister  to  Russia, 
and  through  four  years  he  illustrated  there  the 
simple  democratic  dignity  of  his  people.  As  one 
of  the  commissioners  at  Ghent  to  secure  the  treaty 
of  peace  which  ended  the  war  of  1812,  his  claims 
are  as  bold  as  if  he  represented  the  undoubted 
victors  in  that  conquest.  Audaciously  he  "  goes 
one  better  "  whenever  the  British  raise  their 
terms  in  the  diplomatic  "  game  of  bluff,"  actu- 
ally insisting  that  Canada  should  be  ceded  to  the 
United  States.  A  treaty  was  secured  so  advan- 
tageous to  this  country  that  the  English  ruefully 
declared  that  better  could  not  have  been  obtained 
had  the  Americans  been  triumphant.  In  1815 
he  was  appointed  envoy  extraordinary  and  min- 
ister plenipotentiary  to  Great  Britain.     America 


THE   PURITAN   PRESIDENT  115 

was  so  heartily  disliked  and  contemned  that  he 
was  shown  the  most  studied  disfavor.  Imper- 
turbably,  however,  he  went  about  his  duties,  and 
with  great  intelligence  and  tact  won  for  his  coun- 
try all  the  consideration  that  was  possible. 

It  was,  however,  as  Secretary  of  State  that  his 
faith  in  his  country  found  completest  expression. 
The  world  must  be  "  familiarized  with  the  idea 
of  considering  our  proper  domain  to  be  the 
continent  of  America."  He  secured  Florida,  he 
furthered  the  acquisition  of  Louisiana,  he  wrote 
to  our  minister  at  Madrid  "  that  it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  resist  the  conviction  that  the  annexa- 
tion of  Cuba  to  our  federal  republic  will  be  indis- 
pensable to  the  continuance  and  integrity  of  the 
Union,"  and  he  warned  the  Czar  that  "  we  should 
contest  the  rights  of  Russia  to  any  territorial 
establishment  on  this  continent."  In  short  his 
one  grand  idea  was  "  that  we  should  assume  dis- 
tinctly the  principle  that  the  American  continents 
are  no  longer  subjects  for  any  new  European 
colonial  establishments."  Here  is  the  first  ap- 
pearance in  our  history,  as  C.  F.  Adams,  the  elder, 
notes,  of  the  policy  so  well  known  afterward  as 
the  Monroe  Doctrine.  Father  of  it  was  he,  basing 
it  upon  the  righteous  principle  of  "  the  consent 
of  the  governed,  affirmed  in  our  Declaration  of 
Independence." 

Then  came  the  trying  time  of  his  election  to 
the  presidency.    Mean  personal  politics,  intrigue, 


116    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

slander,  marked  the  contest.  All  this  only  served 
to  set  in  clearer  light  the  lofty  character  of  Mr. 
Adams.  He  kept  himself  aloof  from  the  strife, 
and  would  "  do  absolutely  nothing  for  his  own 
election."  He  had  pursued  the  course  Emer- 
son praises  in  Michael  Angelo,  "  to  confide  in 
one's  self  and  be  of  worth  and  value ;  "  he  had 
served  his  country  as  well  as  he  knew  how,  and 
with  absolute  devotion.  Would  the  people  ap- 
preciate this  ?  He  hungered  for  their  favorable 
verdict ;  no  one  better  deserved  it,  yet  his  high 
spirit  so  revolted  at  the  mere  suggestion  of  bid- 
ding for  votes  that  he  retired  behind  a  more 
distant  reserve  than  ever.  "  If  the  people  wish 
me  to  be  President  I  shall  not  refuse  the  office, 
but  I  ask  nothing  from  any  man  or  any  body 
of  men."  It  was  not  indifference  ;  it  was  not 
affectation  of  pride.  It  was  the  feeling  that  the 
fine  bloom  of  honors  bestowed  in  a  democracy 
resides  essentially  in  the  spontaneous  confidence 
of  the  people.  He  would  have  this  or  nothing. 
And  when  the  vote  turned  out  disappointingly 
small  he  frankly  declared  he  would  refuse  the 
office  if  by  so  doing  another  opportunity  would 
be  afforded  "  the  people  to  form  and  express  with 
a  nearer  approach  to  unanimity  the  object  of 
their  preference."  His  respect  for  the  people 
was  as  high  as  his  own  self-respect.  Late  in  life 
he  said,  "  I  have  never  sought  public  trust ;  but 
public  trust  has  always  sought  me.     And  when 


THE  PURITAN  PRESIDENT  117 

invested  with  it  I  have  given  my  whole  soul  to 
the  performance  of  its  duties." 

No  great  measures  marked  the  presidency  of 
John  Quincy  Adams,  but  was  it  not  glorified  by 
his  simple  confidence  in  the  higher  principles  of 
election  on  the  one  hand,  and  his  entire  reliance 
upon  merit  in  all  appointments  to  office  on  the 
other  ?  Sturdily  he  kept  to  his  determination  to 
retain  every  person  his  predecessor  had  placed 
"  against  whom  there  was  no  complaint  which 
would  warrant  his  removal."  And  for  new  ap- 
pointments he  considered  alone  the  fitness  of  the 
men  to  serve  their  country,  and  not  their  party 
affiliations.  "  It  was  magnificent,"  but  as  is  often 
enough  said,  it  was  not  practical  politics,  and  in- 
vited his  defeat  for  a  second  term.  His  man- 
hood and  his  pure  patriotism  suffered  no  defeat, 
whatever  befell  officialdom.  Ideal  democracy 
never  had  more  superb  exemplification.  Would 
that  the  country  could  have  kept  to  that  high 
standard  !  The  subsequent  debauchery  of  the 
public  service  by  the  spoils  system  is  a  suffi- 
ciently costly  warning  that  neither  the  people's 
honesty  nor  their  freedom  will  be  preserved  to 
them  until  they  return  to  the  just  principles  of 
President  John  Quincy  Adams. 

The  sun  of  his  political  life,  as  he  records,  was 
now  setting  in  the  deepest  gloom.  He  had 
labored  for  the  welfare  of  the  nation,  and  not  at 
all  for  his  own  advancement.    Honestly  coidd  he 


118    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

write,  "  I  have  devoted  my  life  and  all  the  fac- 
ulties of  my  soul  to  the  Union,  and  to  the  im- 
provement, physical,  moral,  and  intellectual  of 
my  country."  And  what  is  his  reward  ?  To  be 
flung  aside  contumeliously,  and  to  see  the  smart 
and  the  unscrupulous  triumph  over  him  !  He 
returns  to  Quincy  at  the  age  of  sixty-two,  poor 
in  pocket,  and  solicitous  that  in  the  quiet  of  a 
country  town  he  may  find  something  to  do,  so 
that  his  "  mind  may  not  be  left  to  corrode  itself." 
Ungrateful  and  dull  of  soul  the  people  who 
permitted  this  !  Such  words  surge  to  the  front, 
expressive  of  heartfelt  indignation.  But  the 
people  were  neither  ungrateful  nor  dull.  They 
were  only  hostile,  in  a  growing  combination 
of  them.  The  South,  gradually  consolidating 
in  defense  of  slavery,  had  discerned  in  John 
Quincy  Adams  a  spirit  inimical  to  its  institution. 
Their  prophetic  soul  had  indeed  found  out  their 
great  antagonist.  As  early  as  when  he  was 
Secretary  of  State  he  had  recorded  in  his  diary 
that  "  slavery  is  the  great  and  foul  stain  upon 
the  North  American  Union."  "  Oh,  if  but  one 
man,"  he  cries,  "  could  arise  with  a  genius  capa- 
ble of  comprehending,  and  an  utterance  capable 
of  communicating  those  eternal  truths  that  be- 
long to  this  question,  to  lay  bare  in  all  its  wicked- 
ness the  outrage  upon  the  goodness  of  God,  — 
human  slavery  !  "  Little  did  he  think  then  that 
he  was  that   man.     But  now,  when  his  career 


THE   PURITAN   PRESIDENT  119 

seemed  closed,  and  at  the  end  of  days,  he  was 
called  forth  to  battle  with  the  giant  wrong,  and 
wrought  such  deeds  for  justice  against  over- 
whelming numbers  as  no  known  congress  or  par- 
liament of  men  had  ever  witnessed.  A  crowded 
life,  intense,  valiant,  achieving,  he  had  lived  out 
to  what  would,  in  the  usual  order  of  things,  seem 
a  consummation.  It  proved  to  be  but  the  intro- 
duction to  the  epoch  of  his  career.  The  best 
was  to  come. 

The  suggestion  was  made  to  him  in  1830  that 
he  might  be  elected,  if  he  wished,  to  the  national 
House  of  Representatives  from  the  ninth  Massa- 
chusetts district,  which  included  Quincy.  Would 
it  degrade  an  ex-President  to  accept  such  a  posi- 
tion ?  Mr.  Adams  "  had  in  that  respect  no 
scruples  whatever.  No  person  could  be  degraded 
by  serving  the  people  as  a  Representative  in 
Congress.  Nor  in  my  opinion  would  an  ex-Pres- 
ident of  the  United  States  be  degraded  by  serv- 
ing as  a  selectman  of  his  town,  if  elected  thereto 
by  the  people."  A  few  weeks  later  he  received 
a  very  flattering  vote,  and  for  sixteen  years  he 
filled  that  office,  making  proud  the  hearts  of  the 
residents  of  the  district  by  his  magnificent  repre- 
sentation of  their  ideals  of  freedom. 

It  fell  to  him  in  the  very  beginning  to  present 
a  petition  for  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  Dis- 
trict of  Columbia  ;  but  it  was  not  till  1835,  when 
the  annexation  of  Texas  began  to  be  mooted, 


120     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

that  the  slave  question  loomed  large  on  the  hori- 
zon, and  he  came  to  the  front.  He  became  the 
valiant  defender  of  the  right  of  petition,  pre- 
sented more  petitions,  and  the  South  blundered 
in  applying  the  "  gag  law."  It  was  a  grievous 
assault  upon  our  free  institution.  How  the  "  old 
man  eloquent  "  defied  it,  and  portrayed  the  ini- 
quity of  it  and  the  system  it  shielded  !  His 
parliamentary  knowledge,  his  merciless  invective, 
his  quick  intelligence,  his  grim  composure,  found 
out  all  the  weak  points  in  the  array  set  against 
him,  and  now  stung  them  to  madness,  and  now 
held  them  at  bay  writhing  impotently.  "Num- 
bers could  not  overawe  him,"  writes  Morse,  "  nor 
loneliness  dispirit  him.  He  was  probably  the 
most  formidable  fighter  in  debate  of  whom  parlia- 
mentary records  preserve  the  memory."  For  ten 
years  he  endured  the  strain,  almost  alone  at  first, 
and  then  gradually  winning  adherents,  until,  on 
December  3,  1844,  a  majority  swept  the  tyran- 
nous rules  from  the  House.  "  Blessed,  forever 
blessed,  be  the  name  of  God ! "  was  his  rever- 
ent acknowledgment.  His  work  was  now  done. 
Human  strength  could  go  no  farther.  His  voice 
was  still  heard  for  freedom,  his  clear  mind  could 
still  pass  upon  measures  in  debate,  but  there  were 
no  more  triumphs  for  him.  On  February  21, 
1848,  he  rose  as  if  to  address  the  Speaker  of  the 
House  and  immediately  fell  unconscious.  He 
was  carried  to  the  Speaker's  room,  and  late  in  the 


THE   PURITAN   PRESIDENT  121 

afternoon,  coming  to  himself  for  a  moment,  he 
said  distinctly,  "  This  is  the  last  of  earth  ;  I  am 
content."  On  the  evening  of  the  23d  he  passed 
away.  "  I  know  few  things  in  modern  times," 
said  Theodore  Parker,  "  so  grand  as  that  old 
man  standing  there  in  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives, —  the  compeer  of  Washington  ;  a  man  who 
had  borne  himself  proudly  in  kings'  courts,  early 
doing  service  in  high  places,  where  honor  may 
be  won ;  a  man  who  had  filled  the  highest  office 
in  the  nation's  gift ;  a  President's  son,  himself  a 
President,  standing  there  the  champion  of  the 
neediest,  of  the  oppressed  :  the  conquering  cause 
pleased  others,  him  only  the  cause  of  the  con- 
quered." His  remains  were  removed  to  Quincy, 
and  there  they  lie  with  those  of  his  wife  in  a 
granite  chamber  adjoining  the  one  in  which 
rests  the  dust  of  his  parents.  Imposing  was  the 
gathering  of  statesmen,  scholars,  and  neighbors 
in  the  Stone  Temple  at  the  funeral.  The  exalted 
emotions  of  the  hour  still  throb  in  Whittier's 
stanzas :  — 

"  He  rests  with  the  immortals  ;  his  journey  has  been  long  : 
For  him  no  wail  of  sorrow,  but  a  paean  full  and  strong  ! 
So  well  and  bravely  has  he  done  the  work  he  found  to  do, 
To  justice,  freedom,  duty,  God,  and  man  forever  true. 

"  Strong  to  the  end,  a  man  of  men,  from  out  the  strife  he  passed  : 
The  grandest  hour  of  all  his  life  was  that  of  earth  the  last. 
Now  'midst  his  snowy  hills  of  home  to  the  grave  they  bear  him 

down 
The  glory  of  his  fourscore  years  resting  on  him  like  a  crown." 


VII 


CHARLES    FRANCIS     ADAMS    AND     THE    WAR     FOR 
THE    UNION 

"  Another  for  Hector  !  "  The  words  of  the 
loyal  old  Highlander,  and  the  answering  rush  of 
his  stout  sons,  one  after  another,  to  defend  their 
chief,  come  to  mind  as  one  thinks  of  the  re- 
curring summons  of  America  to  her  offspring 
of  the  Adams  race,  and  their  prompt  and  effec- 
tive response,  "  Another  for  the  Union  !  "  And 
where  John  Quincy  Adams  fell  at  his  post  stands 
Charles  Francis  Adams,  resolute,  valiant,  ade- 
quate. He  is  at  the  front  when  the  press  of  foes 
is  perilous,  and  is  as  level  to  the  emergency  as 
any  of  his  kin.  Our  great  minister  to  England 
during  the  Civil  War,  what  dangers  he  averted ! 
"  None  of  our  generals  in  the  field,"  said 
James  Russell  Lowell,  "  not  Grant  himself,  did 
us  better  or  more  trying  service  than  he  in  his 
forlorn  outpost  of  London."  Best  of  all,  he 
did  it  in  the  high,  manly  way  organic  in  his 
ancestors.  He,  too,  was  nobly  Puritan,  —  that 
is,  he  earnestly  strove  to  shape  his  life  by  the 
most  elevated  moral  ideals,  and  to  labor  as  ever 
in  his  great  Taskmaster's  eye.     Not  alone   by 


/£} 


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^ttvucc/  -AiLiinJ. 


C.  F.  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION    123 

his  rare  tact  and  judgment  did  he  win  battles, 
but  by  his  directness,  his  grand  simplicity  of 
character,  his  clear  reliance  upon  the  highest 
conceptions  of  justice  and  truth.  In  its  cumula- 
tive power  what  an  inspiration  to  the  Republic  is 
the  constancy  of  these  Adamses,  through  three 
or  more  generations  of  resolute  obedience  to  the 
moral  ideal  !  Does  it  not  illuminate  the  saving 
element  of  our  nation,  now  desperately,  as  in  a 
death  struggle,  arrayed  against  the  black  smother 
of  commercialism  in  trade  and  politics  ?  Does 
it  not  call  upon  all  the  true-hearted  in  this  pre- 
sent time  to  abate  not  a  jot  "  of  what  makes 
manhood  dear  "  and  the  State  beneficent  ? 

Charles  Francis  Adams  was  born,  not  in  Quincy, 
but  in  Boston,  where  his  father  was  temporarily 
practising  law,  representing  his  State  in  the  na- 
tional Senate,  and  incidentally  serving  as  Boyl- 
ston  Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Oratory  at  Har- 
vard. The  date  of  his  birth  is  August  18,  1807, 
his  two  brothers,  George  Washington  and  John, 
preceding  him,  though  he  long  outlived  them. 
Scarce  was  he  two  years  old  when  he  was  swept 
into  that  world-wide  errantry  of  his  father,  going 
with  him  on  his  mission  to  Russia.  His  edu- 
cation there,  as  might  be  expected,  fell  into  the 
hands  of  his  parents.  The  father  spent  many 
hours  a  day  at  it,  and  read  books  of  science  just 
to  qualify  himself  to  improve  his  child's  under- 
standing.    "To  be  profitable  to  my  children," 


124    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

he  humbly  wrote,  "  seems  to  me  to  be  within  the 
compass  of  my  powers.  To  that  let  me  bound 
my  wishes  and  my  prayers."  The  mother  ably 
assisted  him  in  all  this.  After  they  had  left  Rus- 
sia, after  Mrs.  Adams  with  her  son  had  followed 
her  husband  to  Paris,  entering  the  city  two  days 
behind  Napoleon  swiftly  speeding  from  Elba, 
after  two  years  spent  in  England,  where  Charles 
at  a  boarding-school  learns  Latin  and  the  Eng- 
lish character,  after  their  return  to  America,  we 
read  this  entry  in  John  Quincy  Adams's  diary  : 
"  June  11,  1819.  My  wife  has  made  a  transla- 
tion of  the  first  and  second  Alcibiades,"  from 
the  French.  "  She  made  it  for  the  benefit  of* 
her  sons  ;  and  I  this  morning  finished  the  revisal 
of  it,  in  which  I  have  made  very  little  altera- 
tion. .  .  .  The  indissoluble  union  of  moral 
beauty  and  goodness,  the  indispensable  duty 
of  seeking  self-knowledge  and  self-improvement, 
and  the  exalted  doctrine  which  considers  the 
body  as  merely  the  mortal  instrument  of  the 
soul,  and  the  soul  alone  as  man,  made  a  deep 
impression  on  me.  .  .  .  The  lessons  of  Soc- 
rates were  lost  upon  Alcibiades ;  they  were  not 
entirely  so  upon  me.  .  .  .  My  conduct  in  life 
has  been  occasionally  marked  by  the  passions  of 
my  nature,  by  the  frailty  of  my  constitution,  by 
the  weakness  of  my  head  and  of  my  heart.  But 
it  has  always  been  my  will,  and  generally  my 
endeavor,  to  discharge  all  my  duties  in  life  to 


ABIGAIL    BROOKS    ADAMS 


C.  F.  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION    125 

God,  to  my  fellow  creatures,  and  to  my  own 
soul.  I  wish  my  sons  to  read  and  to  be  pene- 
trated as  deeply  as  I  have  been  with  the  lessons 
of  the  first  Alcibiades."  Thus  was  the  founda- 
tion of  the  character  of  Charles  Francis  Adams 
laid  deep  in  the  eternal  elements.  That  training 
made  a  diplomat  who  could  not  "  lie  abroad  for 
the  good  of  his  country."  Inestimable,  also,  was 
the  influence  exerted  upon  him  by  his  grand- 
mother, Abigail  Adams.  Immediately  upon  his 
return  to  America  in  1817  he  was  taken  to 
Quincy  and  remained  for  a  time  in  her  keeping. 
An  impressive  experience  was  this,  which  never 
faded  from  his  memory. 

After  graduating  from  Harvard  he  spent  a 
short  time  at  the  White  House  with  his  parents, 
and  then  went  back  to  Boston  to  study  law 
under  the  majestic  and  deep-browed  Webster. 
He  matured  early ;  and  fitted,  now,  to  enter 
upon  his  career,  he  fortunately  found  a  most 
excellent  wife.  On  September  5,  1829,  he  was 
married  in  Medford,  at  the  family  residence,  to 
Abigail  B.  Brooks,  the  youngest  child  of  Peter 
Chardon  Brooks,  a  noted  Boston  merchant.  In 
clear  energy  of  soul  she  was,  indeed,  a  second 
Abigail  Adams.  Queenly  above  most  who  adorn 
thrones,  vivacious,  strongly  individual  in  charac- 
ter, sympathetic,  and  of  quick  discernment,  she 
augmented  every  noble  quality  of  her  husband, 
and  was  a  wise  and  devoted  mother  to  her  chil- 


126     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

dren.  Again  the  Adams  race  is  indebted  to  the 
spindle  side,  in  no  small  measure,  for  the  steady 
continuance  and  possible  expansion  of  its  physical 
and  mental  vigor. 

Overshadowed  deeply  was  Charles  F.  Adams 
at  first  by  that  astounding  career  of  his  father 
in  the  national  House  of  Representatives.  And 
behind  "  the  old  man  eloquent  "  was  the  tower- 
ing presence  of  the  supreme  advocate  of  Inde- 
pendence. Surely  it  was  no  easy  task  for  the 
young  man  to  live  up  to  his  name,  made  famous 
by  two  such  master  spirits !  Furthermore,  he 
was  modest  and  sensitive  in  a  marked  degree ; 
so,  to  emerge  from  the  shadow  and  develop 
from  his  own  main  roots  such  surpassing  flower 
and  fruitage  is  convincing  evidence  of  his  genu- 
ine abilities  and  force  of  character.  What  was 
in  him  of  worth  gradually  began  to  show  itself 
through  virile  articles  in  the  magazines,  through 
fearless  editorials  in  a  pure-politics  newspaper  he 
edited,  and  through  five  faithful  years  in  the 
State  legislature.  Independent  as  either  of  his 
predecessors,  he  was,  for  an  Adams,  wonderfully 
reposeful  in  his  sustained  strength.  Indeed,  he 
was  the  first  of  his  line  to  dispense  with  invec- 
tive, and  to  debate  great  matters  in  calm  speech ; 
nevertheless  in  the  deep  elements  of  his  char- 
acter there  is  plainly  discernible  the  familiar 
ethical  passion.  It  is  visible  in  his  contempt  for 
shams,  in  his  reverence  for  justice,  in  his  reli- 


C.  F.  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION    127 

ance  upon  "  the  laws  of  sublimer  range,  whose 
home  is  the  pure  ether,  whose  origin  is  God 
alone."  Naturally  he  is  with  the  "  conscience  " 
Whigs  when  the  Anti-slavery  agitation  begins  to 
stir  the  North,  and  is  numbered  with  the  few 
choice  spirits,  Charles  Sumner  and  the  rest,  who 
were  the  nucleus  of  the  Republican  party  of 
Massachusetts  and  perhaps  of  the  country.  Nomi- 
nated Vice-President  by  the  Free-Soil  party  in 
1848,  his  is  the  strength  of  its  slogan,  "  Adams 
and  Liberty."  Thus  through  the  sifting  for  the 
inevitable  conflict  he  finds  his  way  as  if  by  di- 
vine appointment  to  the  firing  line  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  mighty  battle  for  the  Union. 

Fortunately  for  the  nation  he  is  there  in  Con- 
gress in  the  anxious  days  of  1860,  aiding  by  his 
constitutional  lore  and  by  his  astuteness  to  hold 
the  government  together  in  the  perilous  inter- 
regnum between  Lincoln's  election  and  inaugu- 
ration, when  all  things  were  out  of  joint  and 
falling  apart.  Doubly  fortunate  is  it  that  he 
was  there,  conspicuously  at  the  fore,  when  the 
fittest  man  was  urgently  called  for  to  fight  the 
battle  of  diplomacy  at  the  Court  of  St.  James. 

As  we  now  clearly  see,  he  was  the  one  man 
adapted  by  temperament  and  training  to  be  our 
minister  to  England  in  that  fearful  crisis.  He 
knew  England,  —  he  got  part  of  his  education 
there, — and  from  father  and  grandfather  he  had 
early  imbibed  all  the  inside  facts  of  America's 


128    WHERE  AMERICAN    QTDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

relations  with  that  nation.  Then,  also,  as  C.  F. 
Adams,  the  younger,  points  out,  he  was  in  his 
solid  qualities  Anglo-Saxon  himself,  and  by  these, 
—  self-control,  high  courage,  frankness  and  fair- 
ness, —  he  won  the  esteem  of  Lord  Russell,  with 
whom  he  had  chiefly  to  do.  An  auspicious 
equipment  was  this  for  a  position  most  peril- 
ously abounding  in  points  of  friction,  and  in 
which  it  must  be  his  one  aim  to  prevent  con- 
flict. 

At  the  outset  the  Confederate  States  had  for 
chief  hope  the  practical  aid  and  possible  inter- 
vention of  foreign  powers,  and  their  plan  was 
to  "  stand  off "  the  Northern  States  just  long 
enough  to  enable  Europe  to  render  the  decisive 
verdict  in  their  favor.  As  fate  would  have  it 
they  had  fallen  upon  the  opportune  moment. 
Napoleon  III.  was  then  cherishing  his  exploita- 
tion of  Mexico,  and  he  welcomed,  as  an  ally 
from  heaven,  the  threatened  dissolution  of  the 
Union.  Hardly  could  he  restrain  himself  from 
hastening  the  process,  but  it  seemed  to  him  so 
inevitable  that  he  concluded  to  wait  upon  the 
slower  methods  of  England.  And  England  in 
her  ruling  classes  was  against  us.  For  two  gen- 
erations officialdom  and  aristocracy,  at  every 
mention  of  the  United  States,  had  been  prophets 
of  evil.  The  event  was  justifying  their  vatici- 
nations, as  they  were  glad  to  believe,  —  "  the 
great  republican  bubble  in  America  had  burst." 


C.  F.  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION    129 

Thus,  all  of  Europe  that  dreaded  democracy,  or 
was  jealous  of  our  growing  commerce,  or  coveted 
our  lands,  sympathized  with  the  South,  and  that 
sympathy  was  concentrated  in  London.  It  was 
the  storm  centre.  How  appalling  was  the  situa- 
tion Mr.  Adams  was  called  upon  to  face !  Plain 
enough  was  this  made  known  to  him  upon  the 
very  day  he  landed  in  England.  With  unfriendly 
haste  —  as  he  was  persuaded — the  Palmerston- 
Russell  administration,  through  a  royal  procla- 
mation, had  accorded  belligerent  rights  to  the 
Confederacy.  "The  intention  of  the  govern- 
ment," says  his  son,  Mr.  Charles  F.  Adams, 
"  undoubtedly  was  that  the  question  should  be 
disposed  of  —  be  an  accomplished  fact  —  in  ad- 
vance of  any  protests."  But  he  does  not  agree 
with  his  father  and  Secretary  Seward  that  the 
step  was  taken  in  an  unfriendly  spirit  or  that  it 
worked  any  real  prejudice  to  the  Union  cause. 
However  intended,  it  was  accepted  by  the  Amer- 
ican minister  as  a  portent  of  the  stern  character 
of  the  struggle  upon  which  he  was  entering.  To 
the  same  effect  was  the  obtrusively  cordial  recep- 
tion extended  to  the  agents  of  the  Confederacy. 
He  found  them  established  as  favorites  in  the 
most  fashionable  circles,  and  indulged  in  familiar 
intercourse  by  those  in  power. 

Now  began  one  of  the  most  remarkable  diplo- 
matic combats  in  history.  It  was  Mr.  Adams 
against  all  England  in  her  ruling  classes,  with  a 


130     WIIKUK    AMKKK'AN    INDEPENDENCE    BEGAN 

few  notable  exceptions ;  against  France  in  the 
ambitions  of  her  emperor  ;  against  whoever  and 
whatever  in  Europe  aligned  itself  in  opposition 
to  the  experiment  of  a  people's  government  in 
this  western  world.  These  various  powers  were 
flushed  with  the  hope  of  victory.  Gladstone 
spoke  for  them  when  he  said,  "  We  may  antici- 
pate with  certainty  the  success  of  the  Southern 
States."  Undaunted,  Mr.  Adams  brought  into 
play  his  great  knowledge  of  international  laws, 
and  insisted  upon  the  observance  of  strict  neu- 
trality ;  he  met  the  intrigues  of  the  Confederate 
agents  with  direct  and  open  protestation ;  he 
overcame  any  prejudice  which  may  have  been  in 
the  mind  of  Lord  Russell  by  his  manliness  and 
evident  sincerity.  At  once  his  power  began  to 
be  felt.  Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis  has  recorded  that 
"  the  astute  and  watchful  ambassador  from  the 
United  States  had  thus  far  forestalled  every 
effort,  and  our  commissioners  were  refused  inter- 
views with  her  Majesty's  ministers."  This  was 
only  a  beginning.  The  strife  over  the  iron-clads 
was  to  come.  Meanwhile,  in  a  social  way,  Mr. 
Adams  was  holding  his  own.  He  was  treated 
with  scant  courtesy  by  the  aristocracy,  but  as 
his  son  Charles  says,  "  when  the  Englishman  was 
(old  and  reserved  Mr.  Adams  was  a  little  colder 
and  a  little  more  reserved  than  the  Englishman." 
His  wife  marveled  at  his  forbearance  and  pa- 
tience ;  nevertheless   she  was  his  chief  support 


C.  F.  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION     131 

throughout  his  arduous  mission.  "  To  her," 
writes  Dr.  William  Everett,  a  nephew,  who  knew 
intimately  her  home  life  in  those  days,  "  to  her 
not  less  than  to  him  are  the  thanks  of  all  her 
countrymen  due  for  maintaining  her  country's 
honor  in  the  most  trying  circumstances  of  Eng- 
lish social  life,  where  the  aristocratic  sentiment 
was  notoriously  hostile,  with  a  combination  of 
generosity,  playfulness,  frankness,  constancy, 
culture,  and  dignity,  which  none  but  herself,  per- 
haps, could  have  so  thoroughly  exhibited,  to  the 
admiration  of  her  new  friends  in  England  and 
the  profound  satisfaction  of  all  Americans." 
That  home  life  and  the  high  character  and  tact 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Adams  cemented  the  loyalty  to 
the  Union  of  such  men  as  Cobden,  Bright,  and 
Forster,  and  thus  was  effective  in  no  slight  meas- 
ure in  averting  in  1862  the  recognition  of  the 
Independence  of  the  Confederacy. 

Failing  to  "  rush "  the  English  government, 
the  subjects  of  "  King  Cotton  "  now  bent  all 
their  energies  to  create  surreptitiously  in  England 
a  navy  to  harass  the  North.  It  was  their  last 
chance  ;  the  South  pawned  the  family  jewels  to 
raise  the  needed  millions,  and  Mason,  Slidell  & 
Co.  toiled  terribly  through  every  subterranean 
channel.  Wherever  their  doings  showed  on  the 
surface  they  veiled  them  with  the  letter  of  the 
law.  The  ablest  solicitors  aided  them,  and  the 
great  resources  of  the  shops  and  the  shipyards 


132     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

of  the  Lairds  of  Liverpool  were  at  their  disposal. 
To  defeat  this  enterprise  Mr.  Adams  was  per- 
sistent and  unremitting  in  his  efforts.  In  spite 
of  all  his  protestations  the  Florida  and  the  Ala- 
bama stole  to  sea  under  a  cloud  of  legal  techni- 
calities, Lord  Russell  too  late  admitting  that  it 
was  a  "  scandal  and  reproach."  "  England  must 
eventually  pay  for  this,"  was  the  warning  of  Mr. 
Adams,  and  as  ship  after  ship  was  destroyed  by 
the  privateers,  he  set  down  the  bill  of  her  in- 
debtedness. How  Englishmen  laughed  in  deri- 
sion !  But  soberly  enough  they  bowed  to  his 
superior  wisdom  ten  years  later  at  Geneva,  and 
paid  it  to  the  last  dollar. 

Succeeding  in  this  first  venture,  the  Confeder- 
ate agents  were  stimulated  to  carry  out  the  more 
daring  one  of  the  iron-clads.  Orders  were  placed 
for  the  two  double-turreted  rams,  which  were 
designed  to  break  the  blockade  of  the  Southern 
ports,  and  to  terrorize  the  cities  of  the  Northern 
seaboard.  Should  this  scheme  prove  triumphant 
it  would  be  a  terrible  menace  to  the  Union. 
"  It  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death  to  defeat  it," 
wrote  the  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Navy.  "  Of 
all  the  insurgent  menaces  which  lowered  upon 
us  so  thickly  in  September  and  October,"  wrote 
Seward,  in  November  of  18G2,  "  there  is  only 
one  that  now  gives  us  anxiety ;  and  that  is  the 
invasion  by  iron-clad  vessels,  which  are  being 
built  for  the  insurgents  by  their  sympathizers  in 


C.  F.  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION     133 

England. "  And  Jefferson  Davis  from  an  inside 
view  declared  they  "  would  have  swept  from  the 
ocean  the  commerce  of  the  United  States,  and 
would  have  raised  the  blockade  of  at  least  some 
of  our  ports." 

Mr.  Adams  early  discerned  what  was  going 
forward,  —  our  consul  at  Liverpool  was  alert,  — 
and  began  anew  his  protests.  Grimly  Captain 
Bulloch,  one  of  the  Confederate  agents,  survey- 
ing his  great  war-ships,  comments  that  "  the 
passionate  appeals  and  strong  asseverations  of 
Mr.  Adams  are  not  surprising."  His  situation 
was  indeed  trying.  Neutrality  laws,  it  is  notori- 
ous, had  been  interpreted  hitherto  by  the  master- 
ful and  vigorous  English  most  liberally  in  their 
own  interests.  They  had  invented  laws  to  justify 
such  a  course,  when  even  the  "  ancient  and  pre- 
scriptive usages  of  Great  Britain,"  as  Canning 
phrased  it,  in  the  days  of  the  Chesapeake  affair, 
did  not  go  far  enough.  Now  it  was  maintained, 
among  other  things,  that  the  "  lucrative  char- 
acter "  of  British  ship-building  was  so  encour- 
aging "  that  closer  supervision  of  that  industry 
and  the  exercise  of  '  due  diligence  '  in  restraint 
of  the  construction  of  commerce-destroyers  would 
impose  on  neutrals  a  '  most  burdensome,  and, 
indeed,  most  dangerous'  liability."  In  putting 
forth  such  arguments  the  British  government 
felt  safe ;  no  fear  of  the  future  was  entertained, 
for   it   cherished   a   perfect   confidence   in    the 


134    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

eventual  triumph  of  the  South.  Recklessly  the 
Confederacy  was  given  the  advantage  of  every 
doubt. 

Minister  Adams  had  to  make  a  thorough 
study  of  every  aspect  of  the  laws  bearing  upon 
the  case,  gather  evidence  of  their  infraction  from 
our  consuls,  from  spies,  from  informers,  sift  it 
carefully,  and,  repressing  the  outraged  feelings 
of  a  patriot,  present  his  remonstrances  in  courte- 
ous, judicious,  and  convincing  form.  Yet  after 
all  this  ceaseless  and  intense  labor,  no  more  would 
be  effected  than  to  draw  from  Lord  Russell  a 
note,  saying  there  was  not  sufficient  evidence 
that  the  iron-clads  were  being  built  for  the  Con- 
federacy. Agent  Bulloch,  sheltered  behind  the 
letter  of  the  law,  feels  that  his  enterprise  is  se- 
cure, and  that  the  law  will  have  to  be  strained 
to  stop  the  war-vessels.  But  Mr.  Adams  is  de- 
termined that  if  need  be  the  laws  shall  be  strained. 
The  spirit  of  them,  at  the  least,  is  with  him. 
Justice  shall  be  done  by  their  exact  observance. 
Gradually  his  indomitable  activity  and  fearless 
protestations  press  with  such  force  upon  the 
government  that  they  are  compelled  to  do  some- 
thing-. "  We  begin  to  feel  the  effects  of  Mr. 
Adams's  representations  to  Earl  Russell,"  writes 
Bulloch.  Yes,  and  still  more  was  he  to  feel 
them  !  So  potent  did  they  grow  that  a  mock 
sale  is  made  of  the  iron-clads  to  a  mythical  agent 
of  the  Egyptian  Khedive.    Desperately  the  South 


C.  F  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION     135 

hopes  under  these  colors  to  get  the  ships  on  the 
blue  seas.  And,  in  fact,  there  is  some  likelihood 
that  one  of  them,  nearly  fitted  out,  will  escape 
as  did  the  Alabama,  on  a  "  trial  trip."  Once 
again,  Mr.  Adams  firmly  calls  the  attention  of 
Lord  Russell  to  the  notorious  state  of  things, 
and  once  again  receives  for  answer  the  weary 
array  of  reasons  for  letting  the  ships  alone. 
What  now  is  to  be  done?  On  the  level  of 
adroit  diplomatic  notes  and  solicitors'  formalities 
absolutely  nothing !  Higher  ground  than  this 
he  had  always  taken,  and  now,  with  character- 
istic directness  and  daring,  he  briefly  expresses 
his  regret  at  the  conclusions  of  her  Majesty's 
government,  declares  it  opens  "  to  the  insurgents 
free  liberty  in  this  kingdom  to  execute  a  pol- 
icy "  of  what  they  themselves  described  as  the 
widest  pillage,  and  then  penned  the  sentence 
which  since  has  become  so  famous,  "  It  would 
be  superfluous  in  me  to  point  out  to  your  lord- 
ship that  this  is  war."  Deliberately  the  words 
are  written,  but  they  seem  to  lift  on  "  the  dis- 
tant ground-swell  of  repressed  passion."  It  was 
enough.  This  bold  and  direct  appeal  to  real 
things  was  sufficient.  There  was  activity  now 
on  the  part  of  the  British  government.  War 
vessels  were  placed  between  the  iron-clads  and 
the  open  sea,  and  they  never  left  their  berths 
till  they  were  added,  by  purchase,  to  the  British 
navy.     Thereafter,  to  the  end  of  the  war,  there 


13G     WHERE   AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

was  no  strain  in  the  relations  of  the  two  coun- 
tries;  they  were  even  cordial. 

Mr.  Adams  was  the  Grant  of  diplomacy,  and 
this  was  his  Appomattox.  In  the  simplicity  of 
his  methods  and  his  character  he  won  the  day 
for  us.  He  did  not  palter  in  double  speech,  — 
an  official  and  a  private.  His  art  wras  grand  in 
its  sincerity.  "  Give  me/'  his  father  had  written, 
reflectively  viewing  the  duplicity  of  a  certain 
diplomatist,  —  "  give  me,  in  every  station  of  life 
and  every  crisis  of  affairs,  an  open  and  a  candid 
mind."  It  was  his  son's  prayer,  too,  and  golden 
rule  of  intercourse.  Indeed,  may  it  not  be  said 
that  the  Adamses,  in  the  three  notable  periods  in 
which  they  so  illustriously  served  the  nation  at  the 
highest  European  courts,  laid  the  foundation  of 
what  is  now  recognized  in  its  directness  as  dis- 
tinctly  American  diplomacy  ?  Talleyrand,  in  his 
dealings  with  John  Adams,  sought  to  veil  his 
mendacity,  after  his  kind,  in  diplomatic  phrases, 
insisting  "  on  the  form  of  civility  and  decorum, 
from  which  in  their  relations  with  each  other 
governments  should  never  depart."  For  such 
forms  and  evasions  bluff  John  Adams  had  an 
litter  abhorrence,  and  when  he  saw  in  Talleyrand 
not  only  falsehood  and  bribery,  but  an  enemy  of 
the  United  States,  he  struck  him  a  blow  so  direct 
and  vital  that  he  carried  the  pain  of  it  to  his 
dying  day.  Bismarck  has  a  name  for  candor. 
He  could  be  frank,  brutally  frank,  when  it  served 


C.  F.  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION     137 

his  turn  ;  but  the  Adamses  were  daringly  and 
unswervingly  veracious.  When  they  spoke, they 
spoke  as  honest  men,  sound  to  the  core.  They 
could  be  silent,  but  never  sinuous.  Their  direct- 
ness was  like  a  law  of  nature.  And  this  candor 
of  the  Puritan,  so  congruous  with  the  new,  simple 
life  of  this  nation  of  the  common  people,  has 
become  organic.  No  heritage  have  we  in  the 
artful  circumlocutions  of  the  Old  World,  and  we 
may  fail  at  times  in  formal  courtesy,  but  at  least 
we  are  understood.  In  the  simplicity  and  truth- 
fulness of  his  diplomacy,  may  it  not  be  said  that 
Secretary  Hay  in  his  dealings  with  China  and 
"  the  powers  "  continued,  in  a  distinguished  man- 
ner, the  "  grand  style  "  of  the  "  open  and  candid 
mind"? 

Mr.  Adams  was  not  permitted  to  retire  from 
his  post  till  May,  1868.  Then  England  and 
America  united  to  extol  his  wisdom,  judgment, 
and  character.  It  is  all  summed  up  in  the  verdict 
rendered  by  J.  W.  Foster  in  his  "  Century  of 
American  Diplomacy :  "  "  No  other  minister  of 
the  United  States  has  ever  passed  through  so 
long  a  period  of  intense  excitement  and  critical 
responsibility.  He  displayed  diplomatic  skill  of 
the  highest  order,  and  a  patriotic  spirit  unsur- 
passed by  his  fathers."  He  returned  to  Quincy 
for  well  earned  repose,  both  Mrs.  Adams  and 
himself  mingling  unostentatiously  in  the  life  of 
the  townspeople.     From  the  enjoyment  of  this 


138    WHERE  AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

relaxation  he  was  summoned,  in  1871,  to  under- 
take the  crowning  achievement  of  his  laborious 
days.  As  arbitrator  on  the  part  of  the  United 
States  in  the  Geneva  tribunal,  for  the  adjustment 
of  the  Alabama  Claims,  his  discretion  and  deep 
sense  of  justice,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  were 
paramount  in  harmonizing  discordant  elements, 
and  in  securing  the  highly  satisfactory  indemnity. 
As  was  then  said  of  him,  "  he  performed  the 
difficult  duty  with  the  impartiality  of  a  jurist, 
and  the  delicate  honor  of  a  gentleman." 

Back  once  more  in  Quincy,  the  leisure  at 
last  was  his  to  expatiate  on  its  serene  delights. 
Through  roads  and  lanes  he  took  his  customary 
walks  and  drives,  respectfully  greeted  by  neigh- 
bors, and  reviving  the  memories  of  kindred  and 
friends,  so  richly  associated  with  almost  every 
spot  in  the  ancient  town.  At  church  of  a  Sun- 
day he  was  regularly  seen,  "through  sunshine  and 
through  cloudy  weather,"  a  reverent  worshiper 
in  a  liberal  faith,  as  all  his  fathers  were.  He 
interested  himself  in  the  more  important  events 
of  the  town  ;  gave  sound  advice  to  the  graduates 
of  Adams  Academy  ;  served  as  a  director  of  the 
Mount  Wollaston  Bank.  For  serious  occupation 
he  could  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less  than  the 
editing  of  the  twelve  volumes  of  his  father's 
stupendous  diary.  In  this  ideal  repose,  accord- 
ing to  the  Puritan  standard,  Mrs.  Adams  par- 
ticipated.    She,  too,  was  always  in  her  pew  of  a 


C.  F.  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION    139 

Sunday,  and  graced  the  part  of  "  Lady  Bounti- 
ful" of  the  town  with  rare  sympathy  and  dis- 
cretion. For  the  distressed  no  appeal  to  her 
was  made  in  vain.  She  plied  her  needle  at  the 
"  Fragment  Society  "  as  industriously  as  Aunt 
Abby  Whitney,  its  president ;  and  her  words  of 
kindness  and  wisest  counsel  measurably  strength- 
ened the  moral  and  intellectual  life  of  the  com- 
munity. So  they  passed  the  remainder  of  their 
days,  —  in  Quincy  in  summer,  in  Boston  in  win- 
ter, —  always  surrounded  by  friends,  always  in- 
terested in  the  living  present,  always  uplifted  by 
the  love  of  their  numerous  children  and  grand- 
children. Their  golden  wedding,  celebrated  at 
this  time,  seemed  but  the  accentuation  of  a  har- 
vest season  of  life,  glowing  with  a  mild  radiance, 
rich  in  the  returns  of  honorable  service.  Together 
for  so  many  years,  they  were  not  long  parted  by 
death.  Mr.  Adams  was  gathered  to  his  fathers 
November  21,  1886,  and  Mrs.  Adams  followed 
him  June  6, 1889. 

Ruf us  Choate,  in  the  fierce  political  contest  of 
1848,  when  Charles  F.  Adams  was  put  forward 
by  the  conscience  of  the  country  as  the  Free-Soil 
candidate  for  Vice-President,  drew  a  laugh  from 
the  groundlings  by  declaring  that  John  Quincy 
Adams  was  "  the  last  of  the  Adamses."  How 
absolutely  time  and  the  event  have  confuted 
the  sneer  of  the  brilliant  partisan !  There 
was  another  Adams.     As  destiny  would  have  it, 


140    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

Charles  Francis  Adams  was  the  last  of  his  gener- 
ation, but  the  last  of  his  race,  even  at  this  late 
day,  who  can  foresee  or  wish  to  presage  ?  Up  to 
this  moment  it  has  surpassed,  in  the  continuous 
fame  of  its  successive  generations,  that  of  any 
other  line  of  related  statesmen  in  America.  For 
a  parallel  to  it  we  must  go  to  the  older  civilization 
of  England.  Illustrious  were  the  Pitts  for  two 
generations ;  eminent  the  Grenvilles,  with  whom 
they  intermarried,  for  one  generation  more. 
These  are  among  the  most  celebrated  instances 
of  "  hereditary  genius,"  but  they  do  not  go  be- 
yond what  is  exhibited  by  the  Adamses.  Fa- 
mous have  they  been  for  three  generations  in  a 
direct  line,  and  still  are  they  vigorous  and  poten- 
tial in  the  familiar  ethical  and  intellectual  way. 

The  late  John  Quincy  Adams,  eldest  son  to 
Charles  Francis  Adams,  was  acknowledged  by  all 
who  knew  him,  to  rank  high  among  the  ablest 
men  of  the  country.  Vigorous,  clear-minded, 
ruggedly  direct,  a  leader  of  men  in  the  force- 
ful elements  of  his  character,  he  could  have  dis- 
tinguished himself  in  any  great  administrative 
position ;  had  the  task  been  his,  might,  indeed, 
have  piloted  his  State  or  the  nation  through 
stormiest  waters.  A  man  of  action,  his  destiny 
seemed  thwarted  by  a  too  delicate  regard  for  the 
public  initiative,  and  an  independence  unyielding 
to  the  seduction  of  political  managers.  What- 
ever the  cause,  the  feeling  was  widespread  that 


^a 


JOHN   QUINCY   ADAMS,    1833-94 


C.  F.  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION    141 

here  was  a  man,  richly  endowed  by  nature,  excel- 
ling in  the  practical  wisdom  of  statecraft,  whose 
sagacity  and  character  were  urgently  needed  in 
public  affairs,  but  who  was  left  undisturbed  al- 
most to  prosecute  his  private  concerns.  To  be 
sure  he  represented  Quincy  hi  the  State  legisla- 
ture three  years,  was  thrice  nominated  for  gov- 
ernor, and  once  for  Congress.  Perversely  it  hap- 
pened that  his  views  and  principles,  tenaciously 
held,  did  not  coincide  with  those  of  the  major- 
ity of  the  voters.  Late  in  life  he  was  invited  by 
President  Cleveland  to  serve  as  Secretary  of  the 
Navy.  This,  one  cannot  help  thinking,  would 
have  proved  congenial  work,  —  fit,  too,  for  a 
descendant  of  that  President  who  founded  the 
American  navy.  But  his  health  and  absorbing 
private  engagements  would  not  permit.  The  rule 
of  his  family,  never  to  seek  nor  to  refuse  public 
trust,  was  fated  to  be  broken  in  this  instance. 

Seven  sons  and  daughters  were  born  to  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Charles  Francis  Adams:  Louisa  Catherine, 
who  married  Charles  Kuhn  ;  John  Quincy,  who 
married  Fanny  Cadwallader  Crowninshield  of 
Boston  ;  Charles  Francis,  who  married  Mary 
Ogden  of  New  York ;  Henry,  who  married  Mi- 
riam Hooper ;  Arthur,  who  died  in  childhood ; 
Mary,  who  married  Dr.  Henry  P.  Quincy  ;  and 
Brooks,  who  married  Evelyn  Davis,  daughter  of 
Admiral  Charles  Henry  Davis. 

Charles  Francis,  the  second  son,  has  long  been 


142     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

held  in  high  esteem  for  his  vital  interest  in  what- 
ever advances  the  community  in  which  he  lives, 
and  exalts  the  true  welfare  of  the  nation ;  for  his 
outspoken  and  thoughtful  judgments  on  great 
public  questions,  and  for  the  veracious  and  schol- 
arly qualities  of  his  historical  and  biographical 
writings.  He  served  in  the  Civil  War  with  dis- 
tinction,  and  was  mustered  out  in  1865  with 
the  brevet  rank  of  Brigadier -General.  There 
have  been  lieutenants  in  his  family  from  the 
beginning,  and  an  unfailing  spirit  of  militant 
patriotism,  but  he  "  ranks "  all  his  kindred. 
Nevertheless  his  civil  achievements  have  been  so 
marked,  and  his  leaning  to  arbitration's  humaner 
methods  so  decided,  to  say  nothing  of  his  aver- 
sion to  titles,  that  the  term  "  General "  has  never 
cleaved  to  him. 

At  a  critical  time  in  the  history  of  the  Union 
Pacific  Railway,  when  trustworthy  administra- 
tion of  that  great  corporation  was  imperatively 
demanded,  he  was  elected  its  president.  Yet,  no 
matter  how  absorbing  his  business  engagements, 
appeals  to  his  public  spirit  were  seldom  made  in 
vain.  He  accepted  election  as  a  member  of  the 
Quincy  School  Committee,  where  his  keen  obser- 
vation soon  brought  him  to  the  conclusion,  some 
time  before  expressed  by  Dr.  Edward  Everett 
Hale,  that  if  it  were  n't  for  the  schools  a  child 
would  stand  a  chance  of  getting  an  education. 
He  revolutionized  the  prevailing  methods,  reen- 


CHARLKS    FRANCIS   ADAMS   (The   Younger) 


C.  F.  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION    143 

forcing  Colonel  Parker  —  the  noted  school  su- 
perintendent, whom  he  discovered  —  in  the  •work 
of  establishing  the  far-famed  "  Quincy  system." 
Liberal  were  his  labors,  also,  for  the  Thomas 
Crane  Memorial  Library.  His  intelligent  and 
hearty  cooperation  with  the  heirs  of  that  son  of 
Quincy  were  chiefly  instrumental  in  securing  for 
the  town  one  of  architect  Richardson's  gems. 
In  it  is  stored  John  Adams's  library,  and  a  large 
and  choice  collection  of  books  made  in  these 
later  years  by  public  appropriations.  And  not 
unrecognized  by  the  citizens  was  the  assistance 
he  lent  to  Dr.  John  A.  Gordon,  Theophilus  King, 
Mrs.  Annie  E.  Faxon,  and  others  of  the  Village 
Improvement  Society,  in  planting  trees  and  erect- 
ing, in  the  Training  Field  Square,  a  magnificent 
granite  fountain. 

He  is  the  author  of  historical  and  biographical 
writings  of  first-class  importance:  the  "Three  Epi- 
sodes of  Massachusetts  History,"  a  "Biography 
of  Richard  Henry  Dana,"  a  "History  of  Quincy," 
the  "Life  of  Charles  Francis  Adams,"  his  father, 
"Lee  at  Appomattox  and  Other  Papers,"  and 
much  besides.  He  is  now  chiefly  engaged  upon 
the  diary  and  letters  of  his  father.  As  a  member 
for  years  of  the  Metropolitan  Park  Commission 
he  devoted  much  time  to  its  wise  plans.  Not 
least  among  the  honors  that  have  come  to  him, 
and  one  entirely  congenial,  is  that  he  is  president 
of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society. 


Ill     WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

Professor  Henry  Adams,  now  of  Washington, 
is  author  of  a  "  History  of  the  United  States  " 
which  is  unsurpassed  among  the  few  really  great 
works  of  a  similar  character  written  by  Ameri- 
cans. Beginning  with  the  first  administration 
of  Thomas  Jefferson,  it  veraciously  and  clearly 
tells  the  story  of  the  early  and  rather  uncouth 
struggles  of  the  new  republic  to  "find  itself" 
in  the  wild  seas  vexed  by  the  maelstrom  of  the 
Napoleonic  wars.  Reading  it,  one  wonders  yet 
again  which  is  the  greater,  the  man  who  does  the 
deed  or  he  who  immortalizes  it  "  in  prose  or 
rhyme."  Certainly  the  "  true  grandeur  "  of  Amer- 
ica he  causes  to  shine  when  it  was  all  but  invisi- 
ble, in  the  day  that  Napoleon  contemptuously 
flung  out  that  the  United  States  "  has  a  sort  of 
existence,"  and  England  plundered  our  helpless- 
ness with  impunity.  It  was  a  time  to  try  men's 
souls.  And  in  hardly  another  chapter  of  our 
recorded  history  are  the  chief  actors  of  the  times 
so  infallibly  judged  by  their  own  words  and 
deeds.  In  its  calmness  and  impartiality,  its  per- 
sonal confessions  and  documentary  proofs,  it 
seems  like  a  page  from  the  Egyptian  Book  of  the 
Dead.  With  the  austere  presence  of  their  Coun- 
try's Destiny  bending  over  them,  they  tell,  and 
not  another  for  them,  of  genuine  deeds  of  valor 
or  deplorable  evasions.  Fortunate  John  Adams ! 
Though  seldom  mentioned  in  this  work  of  his 
descendant,  his  uncommon  sense  and  deep  prin- 


CHARLES   FRANCIS   ADAMS,   2d 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS   OF   TO-DAY 


C.  F.  ADAMS  AND  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  UNION     115 

ciples  are  vindicated  in  their  abiding  and  trans- 
forming- power. 

Brooks  Adams,  youngest  of  the  sons,  is  also 
distinguishing  himself  in  literature.  As  from 
time  to  time  articles  from  his  pen  appear  in  the 
magazines,  with  their  wide  comprehension  of 
modern  tendencies,  one  perceives  the  innate  affin- 
ity of  an  Adams  for  public  affairs,  and  the  prom- 
ise of  yet  other  scholarly  productions.  So  we  come 
to  the  latest  born,  Mary,  the  widow  of  Dr.  Henry 
P.  Quincy  of  Dedham.  At  the  end  of  days  she 
unites  once  more  the  two  famous  families,  and  is 
the  mother  of  the  latest  "  Dorothy  Q."  This  in 
itself  is  a  distinction. 

In  the  total  number  of  its  eminent  members  a 
pretty  high  average  is  this  for  any  household. 
The  virile  achievements  and  potentialities  of  the 
Adamses  are  maintained  at  the  same  exalted  level 
taken  when  the  line  emerges  into  historical  im- 
portance. Propitiously  it  stretches  onward  to 
yet  another  generation,  the  fifth  from  the  first 
President,  already  adorned  by  a  third  Abigail 
Adams,  the  daughter  of  the  second  John  Quincy 
Adams.  Her  brother,  a  third  Charles  Francis 
Adams,  began  his  career  as  the  youthful  but 
efficient  Mayor  of  Quincy.  He  is  now  the  Treas- 
urer of  Harvard  University.  Number  with  these, 
if  you  will,  the  promising  offspring  of  the  second 
Charles  Francis,  and,  verily,  who  can  discern  in 
the  distance  where  the  line  vanishes,  or  antici- 


116    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

pate  the   ultimate   service  to  the   nation  of  an 
Adams  ! 

Quincy  proudly  rejoices  in  her  share  of  the  great 
inheritance  of  ideal  service  and  love  of  our  land 
which  this  remarkable  family  has  bequeathed  to 
the  United  States.  In  a  special  degree,  also,  she 
deems  herself  fortunate  in  the  wise  gifts  she  has 
received  from  the  Adamses.  Shortly  after  the  death 
of  the  first  Charles  F.  Adams  his  heirs  paid  out  of 
his  estate  the  sum  of  $10,000  to  establish  a  per- 
manent fund  for  the  maintenance  of  worship  in 
the  "  Stone  Temple,"  and  a  little  later  Charles  F. 
Adams,  2d,  purchased  and  gave  to  Quincy  the 
large  and  beautiful  tract  of  land  since  named 
Merry-Mount  Park.  Contemplating  these  gifts, 
and  those  given  by  John  Adams  and  Dr.  Wood- 
ward, the  public  library  by  the  heirs  of  Thomas 
Crane,  the  public  park  by  Henry  H.  Faxon,  and 
the  hospital  by  William  B.  Rice,  Quincy  may 
well  deem  herself  fortunate  among  the  cities  of 
this  country. 


VIII 

THE    COLONIAL    COLONELS 

With  the  youthful  Edmund  Quincy  and  his 
wife  Joanna  his  race,  it  may  be  said,  took  a  new 
start.  He  was  the  one  man  then  on  this  soil 
bearing  the  name  of  Quincy,  and  through  whose 
children  it  was  to  be  transmitted  to  future  gen- 
erations, and  he  was  the  first  of  his  name  to  be 
settled  permanently  in  the  home  which  was  des- 
tined to  become  so  famous  as  the  habitation  of 
the  long  line  of  his  descendants.  That  house, 
the  scene  of  these  beginnings,  and,  with  its  later 
additions,  the  setting  of  so  much  that  was  beauti- 
fully valiant  in  the  lives  of  his  kindred,  stands 
there  visibly  testifying  to  veracious  deeds  thrill- 
ing with  interest  beyond  the  creations  of  romance. 
It  is  almost  of  equal  date  with  our  New  World 
civilization,  to  whose  marching  music  and  songs 
of  triumph  its  very  walls  seem  vibrant.  Stately 
it  rises  amid  ancient  elms  and  dreamful  scenes, 
a  pleasant  and  spacious  example  of  the  early 
colonial  mansion.  Picturesque  it  surely  is,  and 
humanly  interesting,  —  "  that  seasoned  life  of 
man,"  as  Milton  says  of  books,  "preserved  and 
stored  up  in  "  it,  —  measurably  above  most  his- 


148    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

toric  habitations.  The  original  seat  of  one  of 
the  most  eminent  and  cultivated  of  our  American 
families,  it  has  been  for  more  than  two  centuries 
the  home  of  romance  and  wit,  of  beauty,  of  patri- 
otism, and  of  sublime  daring.  Statesmen,  judges, 
and  captains  of  war  were  born  in  it,  the  "  Dorothy 
Q."  of  Holmes's  poem  first  saw  the  light  in  it, 
John  Hancock's  Dorothy  blossomed  to  woman- 
hood in  it,  and  Sir  Harry  Vane,  quaint  Judge 
Sewall,  Presidents  John  Adams  and  John  Quincy 
Adams,  John  Hancock,  Benjamin  Franklin,  Sir 
Charles  Henry  Frankland,  and  many  another 
known  to  fame,  have  shared  the  unfailing  hos- 
pitality of  it.  Any  house  in  this  new  land  of 
ours  built  as  early  as  1636  by  its  very  age  is  an 
object  of  interest,  however  humble  the  genera- 
tions which  fronted  the  mystery  of  life  within  its 
four  walls.  Involuntarily  we  muse  upon  the  long 
years  through  which  it  has  been  the  scene  of  all 
that  wins  our  praise  or  evokes  our  compassion  in 
the  ordinary  lot  of  enduring,  wistful  man.  But 
this  home  of  the  Quincys  sheltered  inmates  and 
guests  who  were  the  first  among  Americans  to 
cherish  visions  of  the  emergence  here  of  a  noble 
and  puissant  nation,  and  foremost  among  states- 
men to  shape  and  establish  it.  In  that  atmos- 
phere of  romance  and  valor  which  veils  every- 
thing associated  with  the  settlement  of  this  coun- 
try and  the  beginnings  of  our  great  republic,  it 
looms  grand  beyond  anything  presented  to  the 


THE  COLONIAL   COLONELS  149 

sight.  Lowell  writes  of  a  house  dear  to  him,  it 
gets  "  to  my  eye  a  shape  from  the  souls  that  in- 
habited it."  So  alike  in  clear  thought  and  reso- 
lute  daring  were  the  master  spirits  who  through 
eventful  years  abode  under  this  roof-tree  that  it 
might  well  seem  to  be  possessed  of  a  personality, 
continuous,  ever-expanding,  majestic. 

"  Old  homes  !     Old  hearts  !     Upon  my  soul  forever 

Their  peace  and  gladness  lie  like  tears  and  laughter; 

Like  love  they  touch  me,  through  the  years  that  sever, 
With  simple  faith  ;  like  friendship  draw  me  after 

The  dreamy  patience  that  is  theirs  forever." 

Edmund,  the  son  of  Judith,  the  first  man  of 
his  family  to  be  the  head  of  this  old  home,  was 
a  good  type  of  the  Quincys,  and  through  his 
masterful  energy  rose  rapidly  in  the  esteem  of 
his  fellow-men.  His  was  the  quick  intelligence 
and  ?mcommon  sense  which  have  distinguished 
his  descendants  in  every  generation.  Already  in 
all  social  relations  he  is  meriting  that  eulogium 
pronounced  upon  him  at  the  close  of  his  life  by 
"  Uncle  Sewall,"  "  A  true  New  England  man, 
and  one  of  our  best  friends."  When  widow 
Joanna  Hoar  died  he  had  been  married  about 
thirteen  years,  and  was  blessed  with  nine  chil- 
dren. These  continued  to  arrive  with  patriarchal 
promptness  every  other  year,  almost,  until  four- 
teen were  born  to  him. 

It  was  the  age  when  the  "  Fruitful  Vine  "  was 
religiously  commended,  and  the  command  to  mul- 


150    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

tiplv  and  replenish  the  wilderness  was  conscien- 
tiously obeyed.  The  element  of  emulation,  it  is 
surmised,  was  not  lacking  here.  Families,  for 
the  largeness  of  them,  were  extolled  by  preacher 
and  poet  with  manly  frankness ;  profoundly 
silent,  however,  were  the  three,  or  even  four, 
wives  in  their  last  resting  places.  Judge  Sewall 
writes  of  the  "  charming  daughter  "  of  Bridget 
[Hoar]  Usher  that  "  her  beauty  and  her  fruitful- 
ness  joined  together  render  her  very  amiable." 
Parson  Flynt,  the  brother-in-law  of  Mr.  Quincy, 
had  ten  children  ;  Parson  Fiske,  his  minister  in 
later  life,  had  sixteen ;  Henry  Neal,  a  neighbor, 
had  twenty-one ;  and  Deacon  Bass,  at  his  death 
in  1694,  had  an  offspring  numbering  162  souls. 
The  modern  American,  fretted  and  frustrated 
with  the  care  of  but  one  child,  profoundly  com- 
miserates them. 

Mr.  Quincy  entered  public  life  on  that  stage 
which  has  afforded  the  earliest  training  for  most 
of  New  England's  greatest  statesmen,  the  town 
meeting.  From  1670  onward  for  ten  years  or 
more  he  is  a  member  of  the  board  of  selectmen. 
At  the  same  time  and  later  he  is  called  to 
other  positions,  until  he  is  honored  with  about 
every  place  of  trust  his  fellow  citizens  have  to 
bestow.  He  represents  the  town  in  the  General 
Court,  and  he  is  made  captain  in  the  Suffolk 
regiment,  —  the  one  military  body  of  the  colony, 
—  and  finally  lieutenant-colonel.     Thereafter  for 


THE   COLONIAL   COLONELS  151 

a  hundred  years  and  more  there  is  a  "  Colonel  " 
Quincy,  preternatural  in  his  longevity  and  con- 
tinuous activity.  Only  an  expert  antiquarian  can 
detect  under  the  title  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration the  individualities  of  the  several  Edmunds 
and  Josiahs  and  John.  No  Kentucky  family  can 
show  more  colonels,  or,  in  this  matter  of  titles, 
more  judges. 

Our  primal  colonel,  Edmund,  was  also  among 
the  foremost  in  the  colony  to  effect  adjustment 
in  the  revolution  of  1688,  when  the  Stuarts  were 
forever  banished  from  the  throne  of  England. 
As  the  chief  citizen  of  Braintree,  he  represented 
the  town  in  this  affair,  and  Andros,  the  Stuart 
governor,  being  "  bound  in  chains  and  cords  and 
put  in  a  more  secure  place,"  he  was  elected 
to  serve  as  one  of  the  Committee  of  Safety  to 
carry  on  the  government  till  the  charter  of  Wil- 
liam and  Mary  should  be  granted.  Like  all  the 
Quincys  in  their  generations,  he  is  prominent  in 
church  affairs.  He  assists  in  administering  the 
"  prudentials  "  of  the  parish,  and  when  it  is  pro- 
posed to  build  a  new  and  larger  meeting-house 
farther  away  from  the  old  centre  of  the  town, 
he  is  a  leader  of  the  opponents  of  the  measure, 
and  calls  a  private  gathering  at  his  house,  where 
"  they  did  agree  among  themselves  to  shingle 
the  old  house,  pretending  to  be  at  the  whole 
charge  themselves."  But  none  the  less  "  several 
pounds  were  afterwards  gathered  by  a  rate  upon 
the  whole  town." 


152    WHERE  AMERICAN   [^DEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  activity  and  prosperity 
there  falls  upon  him  the  shadow  of  a  great  be- 
reavement :  Joanna,  the  wife  of  his  youth,  is 
removed  from  him  by  the  hand  of  death.  "  Mrs. 
Joanna  Quinsey,"  so  runs  the  town  record,  "  the 
wife  of  Lieut.  Edmund  Quinsey,  died  the  16th 
of  May,  1680."  She  had  been  the  heart  and 
soul  of  a  large  household,  crowded  with  life. 
Four  of  her  children  had  died  before  her,  but  a 
full  measure  of  rejoicing  fell  to  her  on  the  glad 
occasions  when  the  home  was  thronged  with 
kindred  and  friends  to  celebrate  the  marriage  of 
Mary  to  Ephraim  Savage,  and  Joanna  to  Daniel 
Hobart,  and  Judith  to  the  Rev.  John  Reyner, 
and  Elizabeth  to  the  Rev.  Daniel  Gookin,  and 
Ruth  to  John  Hunt.  Later,  in  1693,  Experience 
married  William  Savil,  and  out  of  the  house  in 
1682  Daniel  married  Anna  Shepard.  The  na- 
ture of  these  wedding  festivities  may  be  learned 
from  the  account  of  Daniel's  marriage  (though  it 
had  a  sad  ending)  in  Cambridge,  written  in  his 
diary  by  Judge  Sewall :  — 

"  Cousin  Daniel  Quinsey  Marries  Mrs.  Anna 
Shepard  Before  John  Hull,  Esq.  Sam'l  Nowell, 
Esq.  and  many  Persons  present,  almost  Cap- 
tain Brattle's  great  Hall  full ;  Capt.  B.  and  Mrs. 
Brattle  there  for  two.  Mr.  Willard  began  with 
prayer.  Mr.  Thomas  Shepard  concluded  ;  as  he 
was  Praying,  Cousin  Savage,  Mother  Hull,  wife 
and  self  came  in.    A  good  space  after,  when  had 


THE   COLONIAL   COLONELS  153 

eaten  Cake  and  drunk  Wine  and  Beer  plenti- 
fully, we  were  called  into  the  Hall  again  to  sing. 
In  singing  time  Mrs.  Brattle  goes  out,  being  ill ; 
Most  of  the  Company  go  away,  thinking  it  a 
qualm  or  some  Fit :  But  she  grows  worse,  speaks 
not  a  word,  and  so  dies  away  in  her  chair,  I 
holding  her  feet  (for  she  had  slipt  down).  At 
length  out  of  the  Kitching  we  carry  the  chair,  and 
Her  in  it,  into  the  wedding  Hall ;  and  after  a 
while  lay  the  Corpse  of  the  dead  Aunt  in  the 
Bride-Bed ;  So  that  now  the  strangeness  and 
horror  of  the  thing  filled  the  (just  now)  joyous 
House  with  Ejulation ;  The  Bridegroom  and 
Bride  lye  at  Mr.  Airs,  son-in-law  to  the  deceased, 
going  away  like  Persons  put  to  flight  in  Battel." 

Great,  no  doubt,  was  the  grief  of  Colonel  Ed- 
mund Quincy  over  the  death  of  his  wife,  but  it  did 
not  prevent  the  speedy  ending  of  his  widowed 
state.  His  household  needed  a  head  for  its  proper 
governance,  and  so,  with  practical  promptness, 
seven  months  after  the  death  of  Joanna,  he  took 
to  wife  the  widow  Eliot,  daughter  of  Major  Daniel 
Gookin.  Three  children  were  born  to  this  union, 
a  son  who  died  young,  and  Edmund  and  Mary. 

His  family  thus  continuing  to  enlarge,  and  his 
affairs  to  prosper,  he  greatly  improved  his  farm 
and  home  lot.  Trees  were  planted,  the  brook 
was  widened,  a  dam  was  built,  and  in  1685  a  new 
house  was  erected.  Judge  Sewall,  under  date  of 
March  22,  1685-6,  enters  in  his  diary,  "  Lodged 


154    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

in  the  lower  room  of  Unkle  Quinsey's  new  house." 
This  was  the  house,  which,  up  to  about  ten  years 
ago,  stood  a  little  to  the  south  of  the  old  mansion, 
and  was  called  "  the  farm  house."  It  was  not 
any  larger  than  the  edifice  built  by  Coddington, 
but  it  could  be  used  more  exclusively  by  the 
family.  The  old  building  was  now  given  up  to 
the  servants,  and  later  to  the  negro  slaves,  Jo- 
seph and  Tabitha,  and  Cippio  and  others,  and  to 
Psyche,  the  Indian  girl. 

Colonel  Quincy  enjoyed  for  twelve  years  or 
more  the  ampler  accommodations  of  his  estab- 
lishment, and  continued  to  dispense  a  hospitality 
much  resembling  that  of  the  squire  of  old  Eng- 
land, and  befitting  the  leading  citizen  of  the  town, 
who  was  at  the  same  time  magistrate  and  a  supe- 
rior officer  in  the  militia  of  the  Commonwealth. 
A  trifle  irascible  he  grew  as  he  waxed  old,  a  fail- 
ing rather  picturesque  than  repellent  in  one  of 
his  dignified  bearing,  and  quite  comportable  with 
the  habit  of  command  acquired  in  the  exercise  of 
the  fastidious  discipline  of  the  training  field.  At 
a  town  meeting  in  1695,  when  that  old  question 
of  changing  the  location  of  the  meeting-house 
was  again  brought  up,  we  "  Voted  Hon'rd  Col. 
Edmund  Quinsey  Moderat'r.  His  Hon'r  withdraw- 
ing homewards,"  however,  silent  striding,  mas- 
sively indignant.  The  following  March  meeting1 
he  appears  as  moderator  for  the  last  time.  Then 
in  1097  we  hear  of  his  utter  breaking  down. 


THE   COLONIAL   COLONELS  155 

Judge  Sewall  writes  in  his  diary  under  date  of 
October  4,  "  Unkle  Quinsey  grows  exceeding- 
crazy."  The  strong  man  is  brought  low ;  a  few 
months  later,  January  8,  he  passes  away.  "A 
pious  and  godly  man,"  is  the  comment  of  Mr. 
Marshall,  who  watched  with  him.  The  meagre 
town  records  struggle  to  express  the  magnitude 
of  the  loss :  "  The  worshipful  and  honored  Colo- 
nel Edmand  Quinsey,  one  of  his  Majesties  Jus- 
tices of  Peace,  died  January  the  seventh  Anno 
Dom.  1697-8,  anno  aetatis  suae  70  aut  Cariter." 
No  ordinary  man  keeps  the  records,  as  may  be 
surmised  by  the  display  of  latinity.  "  Benjamin 
Thompson,  Physician  and  Schoole  Maister,"  he 
it  was ;  but  he  seems  to  have  been  wrong  in  his 
figures,  for  both  Marshall  and  Sewall  write  Jan- 
uary 8  as  the  date  of  the  Colonel's  death.  "  His 
funeral  took  place  four  days  later  .  .  .  and  he 
was  decently  buried  —  three  foot  companies  and 
one  troop  at  his  funeral."  The  pall-bearers 
"had  scarves,"  and  Judge  Sewall  drove  out  from 
Boston  to  be  present,  picking  up  Madam  Dudley 
on  the  way  (was  she  really  walking  from  Mil- 
ton ?)  who  "  seem'd  to  be  glad  of  the  Invitation 
and  were  mutually  refreshed  by  our  Company." 
Scarcely  two  years  later  his  widow  died.  "  She 
was  sick  many  weeks  and  underwent  much  sor- 
row and  dolor;  and  after  all  fell  asleep  quietly  in 
the  Lord,  and  was  with  great  solemnity  interred 
December  5,  1700."     Judge  Sewall  again  goes 


150    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

out  from  Boston  :  "  Cousin  Edmund  Quinsey  in- 
vited us;  for  I  lodged  there  all  night."  From 
the  house  to  the  burying-ground  is  only  half  a 
mile,  but  "  because  of  the  Porrige  of  snow,  the 
Bearers  rid  to  the  Grave,  alighting  a  little  before 
they  came  there.  Mourners,  Cous.  Edmund  and 
his  Sister  rid  first ;  then  Mrs.  Anna  Quincy, 
•widow,  behind  Mr.  Allen ;  and  Cousin  Ruth 
Hunt  behind  her  husband." 

The  "  Cousin  "  Edmund,  who  with  his  sister 
follows  his  mother's  remains  as  chief  mourner, 
is  now  the  head  of  the  Quincy  household.  He 
is  only  about  twenty  years  old,  and  in  him,  once 
again,  we  have  the  sole  remaining  child  upon 
whom  depends  the  continuance  and  promise  of 
the  Quincy  name.  Of  four  sons  born  into  the 
family  only  Daniel  and  he  lived  to  maturity. 

This  Daniel,  the  first-born  son  of  Edmund 
Quincy  and  Joanna  Hoar,  would  not  abide  at 
home  where  there  were  so  many  mouths  to  feed, 
and  turning  his  back  upon  rustic  life  and  peace- 
ful scenes  ventured  to  Boston,  where  he  set  up 
for  himself  as  a  goldsmith,  the  banker  of  those 
days.  He  took  this  step,  it  would  appear,  im- 
mediately upon  his  marriage  with  Anna,  or  Han- 
nah, Shepard,  and  in  the  very  year  in  which 
Edmund  was  born.  In  1689  they  were  blessed 
with  a  son  whom  they  named  John.  The  father 
died  the  following  year.  This  John  Quincy  in- 
herited, through  grandmother  Shephard,  in  1709, 


THE   COLONIAL  COLONELS  157 

the  Mount  Wollaston  farm,  and  at  once  removed 
to  Braintree.  Here  he  built  him  a  house  and 
took  to  wife,  in  1715,  Elizabeth  Norton,  daughter 
of  the  Rev.  John  Norton,  of  Hingham.  He  soon 
approved  himself  a  man  of  genuine  power,  won 
the  respect  of  his  fellow  townsmen  and  fellow 
colonists,  became  one  of  the  numerous  "  Col- 
onel Quincys  "  and  "  Esquires,"  moderator  of 
town  meeting  and  Representative  to  the  General 
Court.  As  C.  F.  Adams,  the  younger,  says,  "  He 
filled  almost  every  public  office  to  which  a  native 
born  New  Englander  could,  in  the  colonial  days, 
aspire.  Colonel  in  the  militia,  Speaker  of  the 
House,  Member  of  the  Council,  he  also  nego- 
tiated Indian  treaties,  and  in  1727  the  remnant 
of  the  Punkapog  tribe,  abused  and  defrauded, 
petitioned  that  he  might  be  appointed  their 
guardian.  .  .  .  Finally,  in  all  positions  he  ap- 
proved himself  a  true  friend  to  the  interest  and 
prosperity  of  the  province  ;  a  zealous  advocate 
for,  and  vigorous  defender  of,  its  liberties  and 
privileges." 

Singularly  enough  scarcely  a  line  of  his  writing 
remains,  his  grave  is  unknown,  and  were  it  not 
for  the  painstaking  researches  of  Mr.  Adams, 
his  public  services  would  be  yet  awhile  buried 
in  the  oblivion  of  dry-as-dust  documents,  and  he 
himself  almost  forgotten.  Fortunate  is  he,  how- 
ever, in  the  perpetuation  of  his  name.  "  When, 
in  1792,  the  original  town  of  Braintree  was  sub- 


158    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

divided,  the  Rev.  Anthony  Wibird  was  requested 
to  give  a  name  to  the  place.  He  refused  to  do 
so ;  a  similar  request  was  made  to  the  Hon. 
Kit-hard  Cranch,  who  recommended  its  being 
called  Quincy,  in  honor  of  Col.  John  Quincy." 
In  a  yet  more  living  way  his  name  has  been 
transmitted  to  posterity.  His  only  daughter  was 
married  to  the  Rev.  William  Smith  of  the  neigh- 
boring town  of  Weymouth,  and  it  was  Abigail 
Smith,  a  daughter  of  this  couple,  who  married 
John  Adams.  (i  In  July,  1767,  as  old  John 
Quincy  lay  dying  at  Mount  Wollaston,  this  grand- 
daughter of  his  gave  birth  to  a  son  ;  and  when, 
the  next  day,  as  was  then  the  practice,  the  child 
was  baptized,  its  grandmother,  who  was  present 
at  its  birth,  requested  that  it  might  be  called 
after  her  father,  John  Quincy  Adams." 

"  Cousin"  Edmund  Quincy,  whom  we  have  left 
all  this  time,  was,  according  to  his  kind,  rapidly 
showing  himself  a  man  of  worth  and  valor.  The 
first  good  deed  he  compassed,  to  his  own  last- 
ing advantage,  was  to  marry  the  lovely  Dorothy 
Flynt,  and  make  her  the  first  "  Dorothy  Q." 
in  history,  the  mother  of  all  the  "Dorothy  Q.'s" 
who  have  demurely  or  stately,  or  both,  ruled  us 
from  the  world  of  colonial  romance.  This  Dor- 
othy was  the  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Josiah  Flynt 
of  Dorchester  and  his  wife  Margery  (Hoar) 
Flynt.  So,  through  a  second  channel,  the  sturdy 
strength  of  the  "tribe  of    Joanna"  reenforces 


THE  COLONIAL  COLONELS  159 

the  fine  faculties  of  the  Quincys,  and  through 
a  first  channel  the  keen  intellectual  power  of 
Teacher  Flynt,  the  heretical  minister  of  the 
Braintree  church,  fuses  with  all.  Josiah  Flynt, 
the  father  of  Dorothy,  died  1680,  aged  thirty- 
five.  The  widow  and  her  two  children,  Dorothy 
and  Henry,  soon  afterward  removed  to  Braintree, 
and  thus  it  happened  that  Edmund  Quincy  and 
Dorothy  Flynt,  playmates  through  long  happy 
years,  become  lovers,  and,  early  in  life,  were 
united  in  marriage.  Edmund  is  only  twenty  at 
this  time,  1701 ;  his  mate  is  nearly  three  years 
older.  Truly,  a  youthful  couple  to  take  up  the 
dignities  and  responsibilities  laid  down  by  the 
"  Colonel "  and  his  lady  !  However,  they  quickly 
approve  themselves  adequate  to  the  high  demands 
made  upon  them.  He  inherited  the  houses  and 
home  lot  of  his  family,  and,  "  more  distinguished 
than  either  his  father  or  his  grandfather  ...  he 
passed  nearly  his  whole  life  in  the  public  service." 
Once  more  titles  of  honor  manifest  their  affinity 
to  the  Quincy  name,  and  we  have  another  Ed- 
mund, hardly  to  be  distinguished  in  the  matter 
of  titles  from  his  father.  He  is  a  Captain  and 
then  a  Colonel,  an  Honorable  Representative,  a 
Judge  of  the  Superior  Court  of  Judicature,  and 
higher  things  yet.  "  This  great  man,"  said  his 
pastor,  the  Rev.  John  Hancock,  "  was  of  a  manly 
Stature  and  Aspect,  of  a  Strong  Constitution  and 
of  good  Courage,  fitted  for  any  Business  of  Life, 


160    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAD 

to  serve  God,  his  King,  and  Country."  It  is 
endeavored  to  differentiate  him  from  the  other 
Edmunds  by  calling  him  "  Judge  "  Quincy,  but 
this  might  be  done  as  effectually,  and  with  war- 
rant too,  by  naming  him  "  Precentor  "  Quincy. 
On  "  May  26,  1723,  Major  Quincy  was  fairly 
and  clearly  chosen  by  written  votes  to  the  office 
of  tuning  the  Psalm  in  our  assemblies  for  public 
worship."  The  title  would  be  uncontested, — 
other  Quincys  might  claim  distinction  for  tuning 
town  meetings  and  caucuses ;  no  one  besides  has 
ever  exhibited  enough  vocal  talent  to  rival  the 
"  Judge." 

To  one  whose  "  greatness  is  a-ripening  "  thus 
early  and  rapidly,  the  establishment  of  his  fathers 
seems  all  too  small.  His  family,  also,  is  increas- 
ing at  the  pace  set  by  the  old  "  Colonel."  So  he 
ventures  to  build  him  a  more  stately  mansion, 
one  to  meet  the  requirements  of  his  children's 
children,  and  which  should  surpass  everything  in 
the  way  of  roof-tree  that  Braintree  had  yet  seen. 
And  there  it  stands  to-day  nearly  as  he  planned 
it !  The  old  house  of  Coddington,  erected  in 
1636,  taken  for  her  home  by  Judith  Quincy  when 
she  removed  to  the  wilderness,  was  incorporated 
in  the  new  structure.  That  original  building 
in  all  its  lines  is  still  to  be  discerned  as  plainly, 
almost,  as  if  the  newer  edifice,  with  which  it  aligns 
and  by  which  it  is  overtopped,  were  transparent. 
The  old  roof,  with  its  shingles,  is  half  a  story 


JUDGE   EDMUND  QUINCY 


THE  COLONIAL  COLONELS  161 

beneath  the  later  one,  and  the  old  windows  and 
clapboards  are  clearly  distinguishable  from  those 
of  the  more  recent  extension.  A  difference  of 
level,  also,  between  the  old  and  the  newer  floors 
emphasizes  the  widely  separate  dates  of  origin. 
John  Marshall,  mason  and  man  of  all  work,  was 
one  of  those  employed  in  the  erection  of  the 
mansion,  and  in  the  jottings  he  made  in  his  diary 
we  can  almost  see  the  building  go  up.  "June 
14,  1706.  We  raised  Mr.  Quinsey's  house." 
"  July  29.  I  laid  the  foundation  of  Mr.  Quin- 
zey's  chimnies."  "  Aug.  7.  Coulouring  the  ped- 
ements  at  Mr.  Quinseys  most  part  of  the  day." 
"  Sep.  3-7.  Every  day  at  Mr.  Quinceys  about 
the  arch."  From  the  size  of  the  chimneys  and 
the  great  stone  arches  upon  which  they  rest,  one 
would  imagine  they  were  erected  first,  and  then 
that  the  house  was  built  around  them.  But  Mr. 
Marshall  says  first,  that  "  we  raised  Mr.  Quinsey's 
house."  And  such  a  raisins: !  The  beams  are 
of  heaviest  oak,  and  large  must  have  been  the 
crew  of  men  to  lift  them  in  place.  It  is  likely 
the  entire  male  population  made,  of  that  pleasant 
day  of  June,  a  holiday.  When  the  new  church 
was  raised,  a  few  years  later,  "  Bread,  Cheese, 
Rum,  Sider,  and  Beer"  were  furnished  freely. 
As  generously,  no  doubt,  would  Colonel  Quincy 
meet  the  expectations  of  his  robust  and  thirsty 
neighbors. 

The  union  of  the  new  building  with  the  old 


162    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

•was  accomplished  by  no  symphonic  architectural 
scheme,  but  by  plain  rule  of  thumb,  and  so, 
ample  spaces  are  provided  for  "  secret  chambers," 
for  numerous  closets  of  oddest  shapes,  for  curi- 
ous ship-like  lockers,  and  for  similar  entrancing 
conveniences,  wholly  unknown  to  modern  dwell- 
ings. Special  attention,  however,  was  given  to 
the  construction  of  the  buffet  in  the  dining-room, 
which  is  a  veritable  work  of  art.  Hospitable 
open  fireplaces  are  in  all  the  rooms,  —  those  in 
parlor  and  dining-room  quaintly  tiled,  —  and 
liberal  panels  adorn  the  walls  of  most  of  them 
from  floor  to  ceiling".  Altogether  the  mansion 
is  an  excellent  example  of  the  stately  homes  of 
the  colonial  gentry. 

In  1822  Miss  Eliza  Susan  Quincy  made  a 
sketch  of  the  mansion,  which  in  that  day  was 
just  as  it  was  when  Colonel  Quincy  lived  in  it. 
A  copy  of  this  sketch  she  sent,  many  years  after- 
ward, to  Dr.  0.  W.  Holmes.  His  acknowledg- 
ment of  it  was  conveyed  in  the  following  words  : 

My  dear  Miss  Quincy,  —  Accept  my  cordial  thanks 
for  the  sketch  of  the  venerahle  mansion  where  Dorothy  Q., 
now  looking  down  on  her  descendants  from  the  canvas  that 
hangs  in  my  parlor,  once  lived.  It  is  a  most  grateful  re- 
membrance of  our  relationship  and  of  your  kindness. 
With  warmest  regards, 

I  am  faithfully  yours, 

O.  W.  Holmes. 
290  Beacon  Street, 
April  u,  1871. 


THE   COLONIAL   COLONELS  103 

"  Colonel "  Quincy,  thus  comfortably  housed 
and  delightfully  wived,  is  in  a  condition  to  enjoy 
life  and  pursue  his  ambitions.  The  clouds  of 
sorrow  from  the  death  of  father  and  mother 
have  gradually  dispersed.  Judge  Sewall  refers 
to  all  this  in  the  jottings  he  makes  of  a  jour- 
ney to  Plymouth  and  back  in  March,  1711-12. 
"  Rained  very  hard,  that  went  into  a  Barn 
awhile.  Baited  at  Bairsto's.  Dined  at  Cush- 
ing's.  Dried  my  coat  and  hat  at  both  places. 
By  the  time  got  to  Braintry,  the  day  and  I  were 
in  a  manner  spent,  and  I  turned  in  to  Cousin 
Quinsey,  where  I  had  the  pleasure  to  see  God  in 
his  Providence  shining  again  upon  the  persons 
and  affairs  of  the  Family  after  long  distressing 
sickness  and  Losses.  Lodof'd  hi  the  chamber 
next  the  Brooke."  Whoever  has  lodged  in  that 
chamber,  the  one  in  the  northwest  corner  of  the 
second  story,  will  not  be  likely  to  forget  the 
brook,  especially  after  a  very  hard  rain.  How 
restful  the  soft  flowing  of  it,  how  musical  the 
song  of  its  fall,  now  rising,  now  dying  away, 
with  the  wafting  of  the  wind,  and  through  all 
its  changes  mingling  with  the  daydreams  that 
melt  into  dreams  of  the  night,  and  then  vanish- 
ing as  deep  sleep  falls  upon  the  tired  frame ! 
The  Judge  could  not  fail  to  remember  the 
brook. 

Later  another  chamber,  still  nearer  the  brook, 
was  provided  for  the  celebrated  Tutor  Flynt,  in 


164    WHERE  AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

the  L  which  Colonel  Quincy  generously  erected 
for  that  gentleman's  accommodation.  He  was 
the  only  brother  of  Dame  Dorothy,  a  predestined 
bachelor,  scholarly,  original,  and  widely  famed 
in  the  prosy  New  England  of  that  day  as  a  wit. 
For  over  half  a  century  he  was  a  tutor  at  Har- 
vard. This  retreat  was  provided  for  him  in 
Braintree,  where  he  might  rest  from  college  du- 
ties and  come  under  the  thoughtful  ministra- 
tions of  his  loving  sister.  She  bought  clothing 
for  him,  compounded  for  his  illness  a  "  sutle 
physick,"  and  otherwise  tried  to  mitigate  the 
ineptitudes  of  "  single  blessedness."  At  times 
he  fell  into  what  he  describes  as  "  a  hypocondial 
disorder ; "  and  on  the  floor  of  his  study  at  the 
mansion,  tradition  points  out  a  depression  worn 
by  him  as  he  walked  forward  and  back  in  black, 
restless  mood. 

An  event  of  the  first  importance  soon  conse- 
crated Cousin  Quincy's  new  home.  "  Dorothy 
Q.,"  "  my  Dorothy,"  as  Dr.  Holmes  calls  her, 
was  born  into  it  January  4,  1709.  She  was  the 
fourth  child.  Before  her  were  born  Edmund, 
who  married  Elizabeth  Wendell,  and  Elizabeth, 
who  married  John  Wendell ;  a  curious  intermix- 
ture of  names,  but  a  felicitous  union  of  two 
noble  households.  So  early  were  they  married 
that  Dorothy  was  left  at  fifteen  the  main  reli- 
ance of  her  mother  in  the  multifarious  duties  of 
an  increasing  domestic  establishment.    And  very 


THE   COLONIAL   COLONELS  165 

exemplary  was  she,  in  a  day  when  children  were 
expected  to  be  ideally  pious,  obedient,  and  in- 
dustrious. "  My  child,"  wrote  her  father,  "  you 
are  peculiarly  favored  among  your  friends  in 
these  parts  in  having  a  good  word  spoken  of 
you,  and  good  wishes  made  for  you,  by  every- 
body." A  hint  of  her  domesticity  comes  down 
to  us  in  the  tradition  that  she  used  to  dry  her 
laces  on  the  "  formal  box,"  —  still  flourishing, 
the  wayward  growths  of  two  centuries,  —  which 
edged  the  trim  flower  garden.  This  ancient  box- 
wood, and  Dorothy's  fondness  for  the  garden 
it  bordered,  reminds  one  of  another  queen,  hap- 
less Mary  Stuart  of  Scotland,  who,  as  Dr.  Brown 
tells  us,  had  at  Holy  rood  her  favorite  "  little 
walk  and  its  rows  of  boxwood,  left  to  themselves 
for  three  hundred  years." 

Dorothy,  as  she  appears  in  the  portrait  which 
Dr.  Holmes  has  made  famous,  is  the  helpful  and 
affectionate  girl  of  fifteen  her  father  describes. 
Willing,  thoughtful,  sympathetic,  her  nature  in- 
vites the  perplexed  and  needy,  and  all  the  wealth 
of  it  is  lavished  upon  them.  Grandmother  Flynt, 
growing  old  gracefully  in  this  inclusive  house- 
hold, would  be  a  loved  charge ;  her  mother's 
cares  she  would  divide,  and  nephews  and  nieces 
she  would  pet  and  spoil  with  all  her  heart.  Thus 
engaged  she  was  well  on  her  way  to  become  that 
tender,  solicitous,  supplemental  providence,  an 
old  maid  aunt,  when,  at  the  age  of  twenty-nine, 


16G    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

she  herself  was  taken  possession  of  and  loved 
and  protected  by  Edward  Jackson,  Esq.,  of  Bos- 
ton. Their  daughter  Mary  married  Judge  Oliver 
"Wendell  in  1762,  and  their  daughter,  in  the  next 
generation,  married  the  Rev.  Abiel  Hohnes,  father 
of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

"  What  if  a  hundred  years  ago 
Those  close-shut  lips  had  answered  No, 
When  forth  the  tremulous  question  came 
That  cost  the  maiden  her  Norman  name  ?  " 

It  was  a  contingency  not  at  all  improbable,  — 
just  then.  For  it  was  not  till  a  swift  and  tragic 
series  of  events  had  stricken  from  her  hand  its 
chief  duties  that  she  gave  it  to  her  lover.  On 
the  26th  of  July,  1737,  grandmother  Flynt,  at 
the  good  old  age  of  ninety,  passed  away.  Then, 
suddenly,  on  the  29th  day  of  the  next  month, 
her  mother  expired.  Her  father,  about  this 
time,  was  deeply  engaged  in  making  prepara- 
tions for  a  voyage  to  England,  to  defend  before 
the  King  the  cause  of  Massachusetts  in  the 
boundary  dispute  between  that  colony  and  New 
Hampshire.  This  duty  could  not  be  deferred, 
"  being  satisfied  of  the  clearness  of  my  call,  I 
dare  not  refuse  the  same,"  and  with  the  dolor  of 
bitter  affliction  burdening  his  heart  he  departed 
for  London,  where  he  fell  an  easy  victim  to  in- 
oculation for  the  small-pox.  He  was  buried  in 
Bunhill  Fields,  where  reposes  the  dust  of  Bun- 
yan  ;  and  the   General  Court  of  Massachusetts 


THE   COLONIAL  COLONELS  167 

caused  a  monument  to  be  erected  to  him  as  a  last- 
ing memorial  that  "  he  departed  the  delight  of 
his  own  people,  but  of  none  more  than  the  Sen- 
ate, who,  as  a  testimony  of  their  love  and  grati- 
tude have  ordered  this  epitaph  to  be  inscribed." 
News  traveled  slowly  in  those  days.  Judge 
Quincy  died  in  February,  but  it  was  not  until 
about  April  that  Boston  and  Brain  tree  heard  of 
the  catastrophe.  On  the  23d  of  that  month 
public  services  were  held  in  the  new  meeting- 
house on  the  training;  field.  The  Suffolk  regi- 
ment  was  there,  the  judges,  the  Representatives, 
the  governor,  and  other  provincial  dignitaries. 
From  the  mansion  came  the  train  of  mourners, 
the  first  of  kin  leading,  —  Edmund,  and  Eliza- 
beth, and  Dorothy,  and  Josiah.  The  Rev.  John 
Hancock,  father  of  the  signer  of  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence,  is  pastor,  and  preaches  a 
sermon  upon  "  The  Instability  of  Human  Great- 
ness." The  heart  of  the  good  man  is  heavily 
oppressed  with  the  weight  of  woe  that  has  fallen 
upon  dear  friends  and  the  community.  Turning 
to  the  mourners,  and  speaking  to  them  in  the 
direct  fashion  peculiar  to  that  age,  he  said,  "  I 
must  confess,  my  dear  afflicted  Friends,  that  the 
Conduct  of  Divine  Providence  toward  your  Family 
in  the  Course  of  the  last  year  hath  been  uncommon 
and  unaccountable.  The  blessed  God  hath  seen 
meet  to  break  you  with  Breach  upon  Breach, 
first  in  the  Death   of  your  pious  grandmother 


168    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

Flynt  in  a  good  old  age,  and  then  in  the  sudden 
Decease  of  your  virtuous  Mother.  The  Provi- 
dence of  God  hastened  her  reward  of  the  pious 
care  of  her  aged  Parent.  For  as  soon  as  she 
had  committed  her  precious  Remains  to  the 
Dust,  and  set  her  House  in  Order,  she  finished 
her  Work,  undresses  and  dies.  All  this  seem'd 
to  prepare  the  way  for  the  Departure  of  your 
honoured  Father  into  our  Mother  Country  in  the 
Public  Service  of  this  Province,  when  the  time 
of  his  Departure  to  a  better  World  was  at  Hand ; 
and  there  it  seemed  good  in  the  sight  of  God  to 
put  a  Period  to  his  useful  Life." 

Thus  in  a  brief  period  an  entire  generation 
was  swept  away.  So  complete  and  unexpected 
was  the  calamity  that  the  mansion,  it  would 
seem,  was  left  for  a  time  without  a  tenant. 
Dorothy,  to  be  sure,  remained  its  mistress  till 
her  marriage,  about  a  year  afterward.  Who 
then,  if  any  one,  kept  the  hearth-fire  ablaze,  it 
is  difficult  to  surmise.  Edmund,  the  first-born, 
to  whom  it  was  bequeathed,  was  living  in  Bos- 
ton, deep  in  mercantile  affairs.  Josiah,  the  other 
son,  had  accompanied  his  father  to  England,  and 
afterwards  visited  that  country  and  the  continent 
more  than  once.  When  he  settled  down  he  mar- 
ried Hannah  Sturgis,  in  1733,  and  then  he  took 
a  house  in  Boston,  on  Washington  Street,  the 
garden  of  which  adjoined  his  brother's  house, 
which   fronted   on   Summer  Street.     They  and 


THE  COLONIAL  COLONELS  169 

brother-in-law  Edward  Jackson  were  partners  in 
commerce  and  ship-building.  If  much  of  their 
business  was  as  prosperous  and  exciting  as  one 
adventure  which  history  relates,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  Braintree  was  neglected. 

One  of  their  ships,  the  Bethell,  voyaging  from 
the  Mediterranean  in  1748,  at  a  time  when  Eng- 
land was  at  war  with  Spain,  fell  in  at  nightfall 
with  a  vessel  of  greatly  superior  force  flying  the 
Spanish  colors.  Escape  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, and  the  captain,  putting  a  bold  face  to  a 
bad  business,  summoned  the  enemy  to  surrender. 
To  enforce  his  demand  with  the  best  show,  six 
Quaker  guns,  which  formed  part  of  her  arma- 
ment, were  placed  to  look  as  formidable  as  the 
fourteen  good  guns  ;  lanterns  were  hung  in  the 
rigging,  together  with  all  the  hats  and  coats  the 
sailors'  chests  afforded.  "  The  Spanish  captain," 
writes  Edmund  Quincy  in  the  "  Life  of  Josiah 
Quincy,"  "  after  some  demur  and  parley,  taking 
the  Bethell  for  an  English  sloop  of  war,  struck 
his  colors,  and  gave  up  his  ship  without  firing  a 
gun.  His  rage  and  that  of  his  crew  on  discover- 
ing the  stratagem  to  which  they  had  fallen  vic- 
tims, was  infinite,  but  unavailing.  The  gallant 
captain  of  the  Bethell,  Isaac  Freeman,  whose 
name  certainly  deserves  to  be  preserved,  says  in 
his  letter  to  his  owners,  '  At  Daylight  we  had 
the  last  of  the  Prisoners  secured,  who  were  ready 
to  hang  themselves  for  submitting,  when  they 


170    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

saw  our  Strength,  having  only  fourteen  Guns, 
besides  six  wooden  ones ;  and  you  may  easily 
imagine  we  had  Care  and  Trouble  enough  with 
them  till  they  were  landed  at  Fayal.'  The  Jesus 
Maria  and  Joseph  was  a  '  register  ship,'  bound 
from  Havana  to  Cadiz,  with  one  hundred  and 
ten  men  and  twenty-six  guns ;  while  the  Bethell 
had  but  thirty-seven  men  and  fourteen  guns. 
Her  cargo  consisted  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-one 
chests  of  silver,  and  two  of  gold,  registered,  be- 
sides cochineal  and  other  valuable  commodities. 
The  prize  was  brought  safely  into  Boston,  duly 
condemned,  and  the  proceeds  distributed.  My 
great-aunt,  Mrs.  Hannah  Storer,  Mr.  Quincy's 
daughter,  who  died  in  1826,  at  ninety,  used  to 
describe  the  sensation  this  event  caused  in  Bos- 
ton ;  and  how  the  chests  of  doubloons  and  dollars 
were  escorted  through  the  streets,  by  sailors  armed 
with  pistols  and  cutlasses,  to  her  father's  house, 
at  the  corner  of  what  is  now  Central  Court  and 
Washington  Street,  where  they  were  deposited  in 
the  wine  cellar,  and  guard  mounted  over  them 
by  day  and  night  while  they  remained  there." 

Braintree  profited  by  this  extraordinary  piece 
of  good  fortune.  Josiah,  though  but  forty  years 
old,  retired  from  business,  made  his  home  in  the 
Hancock  parsonage,  and,  like  his  father,  became 
colonel  of  the  Suffolk  regiment  and  active  in 
public  affairs.  Naturally,  also,  his  fellow  towns- 
men, when  in  need  of  funds  to  meet  the  extraor- 


THE   COLONIAL   COLONELS  171 

dinary  expenditures  incident  to  the  Revolution, 
waited  on  "  Colonel  Quincy  to  know  of  him 
whether  he  will  lend  the  Town  a  sum  of  hard 
money." 

Edmund,  the  elder  brother,  also  retired  to 
Braintree,  but  not  with  flags  flying.  He  was  the 
parson  of  all  the  generations  of  the  Quincys, 
gentle,  reflective,  benevolent,  and  —  unpractical. 
His  share  of  the  prize  money  went  into  unfortu- 
nate business  speculations,  and  he  resorted  to 
the  ancestral  acres  to  recover  himself  by  farming. 
By  this  time  nine  children  had  been  born  to 
him,  the  last  of  them  Dorothy,  —  Hancock's 
Dorothy,  —  who  first  saw  the  light  in  the  Sum- 
mer Street  home,  May  10,  1747.  It  could  not 
have  been  long  after  this  event  —  long  enough, 
however,  to  celebrate  the  marriage  of  his  second 
son,  Henry,  "  the  handsomest  man  in  Boston," 
to  Mary  Salter,  in  1749  —  that  he  removed  with 
his  family  into  the  old  mansion  of  his  birth.  In 
1753  he  is  appointed  on  a  committee  to  divide 
the  Braintree  lands ;  later  he  serves  as  modera- 
tor of  town  meeting.  He  is  called  Squire,  but 
never  Colonel,  —  the  one  man  of  his  race,  al- 
most, who  has  failed  to  receive  this  title. 

All  of  the  Quincy  name,  with  the  exception  of 
Henry,  are  once  more  in  Braintree,  their  ances- 
tral town  ;  and  interest  in  the  mansion,  the  home 
of  their  fathers,  culminates.  The  Revolution 
dawns,  stormily  red,  its  heroes  appear  upon  the 


172     WHERE   AMERICAN    [INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

scene,  and  the  queenly  Abigail  Adams  and  the  ro- 
mantic Dorothy  are  regnant  in  visions  of  light  and 
loveliness.  Thronged  seems  the  mansion  with  its 
inmates  and  its  guests,  —  young  men  and  women, 
vivacious,  aspiring,  a  trifle  formal  (as  was  then 
the  vogue),  but  thoroughly  human.  Three  sons 
are  at  home  :  Edmund,  who  married  Ann  Hurst ; 
Abraham,  who  was  swept  from  the  deck  of  a 
sloop  by  its  boom  and  drowned  off  Germantown  ; 
and  Jacob,  who  married  Elizabeth  Williams. 
There  are  five  daughters,  all  "  remarkable  for 
their  beauty,"  who,  when  they  first  enter  the 
mansion,  are  none  of  them  engaged.  Then  across 
the  way,  in  the  Hancock  parsonage,  are  the  three 
sons  of  Josiah  —  Edmund,  Samuel,  and  Josiah 
—  and  his  one  daughter,  the  adorable  Hannah. 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  young  men  from  the 
other  parts  of  the  town,  and  from  Dorchester  and 
Boston,  find  much  to  interest  them  at  Squire 
Quincy's  ?  John  Adams  is  a  frequent  visitor. 
He  writes  of  an  evening  spent  here  "  with  Mr. 
Wibird  (the  minister)  and  cousin  Zab  (Rev.  Zab- 
diel  Adams),  when  Mr.  Quincy  told  a  remarkable 
instance  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Franklin's  activity  and 
resolution  to  improve  the  products  of  his  own 
country."  Drinking  tea  at  the  mansion,  on  one 
occasion  when  he  visited  Braintree,  Franklin 
commended  the  Rhenish  grape,  and  offered  to 
supply  cuttings,  which  he  did,  at  some  trouble  to 
himself,  a  few  months  later.     But  no  one  seri- 


EDMUND   QUINCY,    1705- 


ELIZABETH   (WENDELL)   QUINCY 


THE  COLONIAL  COLONELS  173 

ously  thinks  that  the  strenuous  young  lawyer, 
John  Adams,  was  really  attracted  to  the  mansion 
by  minister  Wibird,  that  "  inanimate  old  bach- 
elor," as  Abigail  Adams  called  him  in  stirring 
Revolutionary  days,  or  by  Squire  Quincy  and  his 
talk  upon  farm  products.  As  his  diary  reveals, 
he  was  drawn  there  by  the  "  pert  and  sprightly 
Esther  "  and  her  sisters.  But,  however  witching 
Esther  may  be,  "  she  thinks  and  reads  much  less 
than  Hannah  Quincy"  over  in  the  parsonage;  so 
to  her  he  turns,  and  was  in  utmost  peril  of  becom- 
ing engaged  to  her.  The  future  President  out 
of  the  way,  Dr.  Bela  Lincoln,  a  younger  brother 
of  Major-General  Benjamin  Lincoln  of  Hingham, 
with  more  of  heart,  faces  the  peril,  and  is  lost. 
Then  Jonathan  Sewall,  the  intimate  friend  of 
John  Adams,  "  who  called  him  his  Jonathan,  and 
wished  his  own  name  had  been  David,"  succumbs 
to  the  "  pert "  Esther.  Gravely  John  Adams 
sets  it  down  in  his  diary  that  Sewall' s  "  court- 
ship of  Esther  Quincy  brought  him  to  Braintree 
commonly  on  Saturdays,  where  he  remained  till 
Monday."  As  Samuel  Sewall,  about  the  same 
time,  was  carrying  on  a  courtship  with  Elizabeth, 
and  William  Greenleaf  with  Sarah,  a  profane 
curiosity  is  awakened  as  to  the  apportionment  of 
the  remaining  days  of  the  week.  Merry  must 
life  have  been  in  the  old  mansion  at  this  time ! 
For  every  suitor  who  triumphed  there  were,  most 
likely,  two  or  three  others  who  aspired.     These, 


174    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

with  other  young1  people  from  neighbor  Vassall's 
and  Brackett's  and  Savil's,  and  many  a  house 
besides,  must  have  flooded  Squire  Quincy's  home 
with  life  and  laughter.  Then,  too,  at  this  period, 
and  earlier,  as  tradition  tells,  there  were  joyous 
parties  from  Boston,  "  our  metropolis,"  graced, 
some  of  them,  with  the  knightly  Sir  Henry  Frank- 
land  and  his  lovely  Agnes  Surriage, 

"  With  far-off  splendors  of  the  Throne 
And  glimmerings  from  the  Crown." 

If  "  Agnes  and  the  Knight  "  were  of  a  merry 
party  trooping  out  from  Boston  in  coaches  and 
on  horseback,  it  may  have  been  in  the  summer 
of  1746,  before  she  was  made  Lady  Frankland, 
and  on  the  occasion  when  the  heroes  of  Louis- 
burg,  Admiral  Peter  Warren  and  General  Wil- 
liam Pepperell,  were  being  feted.  Squire  Quincy 
was  then  in  good  circumstances,  and  using  the 
mansion,  it  is  surmised,  for  his  summer  home. 
Later,  on  November  30,  1756,  he  writes  from 
Braintree  to  Sir  Harry  excusing  himself  for 
neglecting  to  congratulate  him  in  person  on  his 
remarkable  rescue  by  Agnes  from  the  ruins  of 
Lisbon  at  the  time  of  the  earthquake  :  "  As  ye 
unhap.  situation  of  my  affairs  has  dep'd  me  of  ye 
satisfaction  of  long  since  waiting  upon  yourself 
and  lady  &  personally  congratulating  your  safe 
&  happy  return  into  this  prov.  after  so  remark- 
able a  protection  wh  ye  G't  author  &  preserver 
of  all  things  was  pleas'd  to  afford  you  at  Lisbon, 


THE   COLONIAL   COLONELS  175 

on  ye  never  to  be  forgotten  10th  of  Nov.  last, 
I  hope  yr  goodness  will  excuse  an  epistolary  ten- 
der of  my  sincerest  compliments  on  ye  pleasing 
occasion."  With  the  note  he  sends,  in  "  testi- 
mony of  my  respect  &  gratitude  ...  a  trifling 
collection  of  some  of  ye  fruits  of  ye  season  pro- 
duced on  ye  place  of  my  birth."  Were  there 
among  them  pears  <kfrom  the  tree  in  the  Back 
Garden  "  of  which  he  writes  in  1757,  and  which 
is  still  to  be  seen,  so  says  tradition,  in  the  hollow 
and  almost  branchless  trunk  at  the  rear  of  the 
mansion  ?  But  whether  or  not  Sir  Harry  and 
the  skipper's  fair  daughter  ever  made  Squire 
Quincy's  routs  more  piquant  by  their  presence, 
wit  and  beauty  thronged  there. 

"  And  judges  grave,  and  colonels  grand, 
Fair  dames  and  stately  men, 
The  mighty  people  of  the  land, 
The  '  World  '  of  there  and  then." 

And  Dorothy,  the  youngest  of  the  children, 
saw  them  all,  and  was,  while  young,  petted  by 
them  all,  and  in  this  stimulating  atmosphere 
grew  up  to  womanhood.  No  wonder  there  is 
discoverable  in  her  temper  a  flavor  of  imperial- 
ism and  a  suspicion  of  the  coquette.  Judged  by 
any  standard,  she  was  not  the  least  beautiful  of 
the  five  fair  daughters  of  the  mansion,  and  quite 
early  enough  had  her  share  of  admirers.  When 
it  was  that  she  became  the  object  of  the  serious 
regard  of  any  of  them  we  have  no  means  of 


176    WHERE  AMERICAN   ^DEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

knowing.  John  Hancock,  born  in  the  parsonage 
close  by,  some  ten  years  before  her,  had  been 
adopted  by  his  wealthy  uncle  of  Boston,  and  was 
an  inmate  of  the  Hancock  mansion  there.  But 
he  was  on  intimate  terms  with  the  Quincys,  and 
no  doubt  visited  them  frequently.  He  could  not 
fail  to  note  the  unfolding  loveliness  of  the  young- 
est of  them,  and,  in  his  masterful  fashion,  early 
to  pay  her  the  devotion  of  the  ascendant  lover. 
Tradition  says  that  the  Revolution  was  afar  off 
and  the  mansion  still  her  home  when  she  and 
Hancock  plighted  troth.  Indeed,  it  is  averred 
that  all  plans  were  made  to  celebrate  the  wedding 
in  the  home  of  her  fathers.  The  large  north 
parlor  wras  adorned  with  a  new  wall  paper  express 
from  Paris,  and  appropriately  figured  with  the 
forms  of  Venus  and  Cupid  in  blue,  and  pendant 
wreaths  of  flowers  in  red.  And  there  to  this 
day  hangs  the  paper  on  the  walls,  unfading  in  its 
antiquity  !  But  before  the  happy  day  arrived  the 
Revolution  broke  out,  families  were  dispersed,  and 
in  Boston  and  its  neighborhood  chaos  reigned. 
The  Quincy  family,  in  a  measure,  was  divided 
against  itself.  Squire  Quincy  was  a  fervent  patriot, 
and  his  children  were  as  devoted  as  himself  to 
the  cause  of  the  colonies.  Judge  Jonathan  Sewall, 
his  son-in-law,  however,  sided  with  the  Crown,  as 
did  Samuel  Quincy,  the  son  of  his  brother  Josiah. 
It  was  a  sorrow  which  the  brothers  carried  to 
their  graves.     For  our  Edmund,  the  owTner  of 


w 

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COL.  JOSIAH    QUINCV,    1709-84 


X      * 


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■-,     •* 
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THE  COLONIAL  COLONELS  177 

the  mansion,  there  was  at  this  time  a  yet  deeper 
sorrow  in  the  death  of  his  beloved  wife,  Elizabeth 
Wendell. 

Sadly  broken  up  and  dispersed  now  is  the 
family  which  had  filled  the  mansion  with  life 
and  merriment.  Dorothy  and  her  father  are  in 
Boston  during  the  memorable  winter  of  1774-5, 
Madam  Lydia  Hancock  exercising  a  loving  guard- 
ianship over  her  nephew's  betrothed.  And  when 
Hancock  —  fearing  arrest  —  finds  refuge  in  the 
Lexington  parsonage  where  his  father  was  born, 
Madam  Hancock,  with  Dorothy  in  charge,  takes 
coach  and  joins  him  there  on  the  18th  of  April. 
Sam  Adams  is  there  also.  At  midnight  they 
are  aroused  by  the  swift  summons  of  Paul  Re- 
vere. The  red-coats  are  coming  !  Hancock  and 
Adams  are  induced  to  seek  safety  in  Woburn ; 
Dorothy  and  Madam  Hancock  remain  under  the 
care  of  parson  Clark.  From  the  shelter  of  the 
parsonage  they  witness  the  swift  gathering  of 
the  minute-men,  the  arrival  of  the  regulars,  their 
murderous  volleying,  and  the  dispersion  of  the 
colonists.  Then,  when  the  regulars  resume  their 
march  for  Concord,  the  ladies  are  hastily  driven 
to  Woburn,  where  they  are  reunited  to  the  pa- 
triots. From  here  Hancock  accompanies  the 
ladies  to  Worcester ;  thence  continuing  on,  they 
find  a  resting  place  in  the  home  of  Thaddeus 
Burr  in  Fairfield,  Connecticut.  In  this  town,  a 
few  months  later,  on  August  28,  1775,  John 


178    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

Hancock  and  Dorothy  Qnincy  are  united  in 
marriage. 

Upon  the  evacuation  of  Boston  by  the  British, 
Edmund  Quincy  returned  from  Lancaster,  where 
he  had  found  safety  with  his  son-in-law,  General 
Greenleaf.  Never  again,  however,  did  he  make 
his  home  in  Braintree.  His  last  days  were  spent 
with  his  granddaughter,  Mrs.  Mary  Donnison, 
daughter  of  Henry  Quincy,  who  lived  at  the  cor- 
ner of  Washington  and  Winter  streets  in  Boston. 

Josiah,  the  brother  of  Edmund,  continued  to 
live  in  Braintree.  In  1752  he  entered  into  part- 
nership with  General  Palmer,  and  established  the 
first  glass  works  in  America  on  a  peninsula  in 
Quincy,  which,  from  a  colony  of  Germans  they 
employed  as  workmen,  received  the  name  of  Ger- 
mantown.  This  enterprise,  together  with  some 
spermaceti  works,  was  terminated  by  the  Revo- 
lutionary War.  In  1755  he  was  appointed  by 
Governor  Shirley  on  a  commission  with  Thomas 
Pownall  to  solicit  the  colony  of  Pennsylvania  to 
unite  with  Massachusetts  in  sending  an  expedi- 
tion to  erect  a  fortress  near  Ticonderoga.  While 
at  Philadelphia  he  formed  a  lasting  friendship 
with  Benjamin  Franklin,  who,  whenever  he  came 
to  Boston,  always  visited  Colonel  Quincy  at 
Braintree. 

The  Hancock  parsonage,  which  Josiah  occupied 
during  bachelor  Wibird's  ministry,  was  destroyed 
by  fire  in  1759,  and  in  1770  he  built  him  the 


SAMUEL   QUINCY,   THE   TORY 


THE   COLONIAL   COLONELS  179 

later  Quincy  mansion,  about  a  mile  north  of  the 
old  mansion,  on  the  three  hundred  acres  left  him 
by  his  father.  Here  he  lived  during  the  whole 
of  the  war,  strong  in  his  faith  in  his  country,  wise 
in  his  counsel  to  his  fellow  patriots  and  their 
leaders.  Sturdily  he  stood  by  his  home,  "  though 
the  ladies  of  his  family,  at  times  of  special  danger, 
would  take  refuge  with  Mrs.  (John)  Adams  in 
the  modest  farmhouse  at  the  foot  of  Penn's  Hill, 
where  Mr.  Adams  was  born."  On  October  17, 
1775,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  from  an 
upper  window  the  British  sail  out  of  the  harbor, 
"  of  which  fact  he  made  a  record  with  his  rinof 
on  one  of  the  panes  of  glass,  yet  extant."  He 
died  March  3,  1784,  in  the  seventy-fifth  year  of 
his  age,  of  a  cold  caught  while  sitting  on  a  cake 
of  ice  in  the  bitter  winter  weather  watching  for 
wild  ducks.  He  was  the  last  of  the  "  colonial 
Colonels." 

He  had  three  sons,  whose  early  promise  of  great 
abilities  warranted  the  anticipation  that  the  Quincy 
name  would  be  more  firmly  established  and  still 
more  highly  exalted.  But  Edmund,  a  merchant, 
enterprising,  ingenious,  and  manly,  died  at  the 
age  of  thirty-five ;  and  Samuel,  who  rose  to  be 
solicitor-general  of  the  province  under  the  Crown, 
became  a  violent  loyalist,  and  went  to  England 
at  the  evacuation  of  Boston.  The  third  son, 
Josiah  Quincy,  Jr.,  thus  became  the  hope  of  the 
family,  the  one  upon  whom  the  sorrowing  old 


180    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

Colonel  centred  his  affections.  It  should  be 
noted,  however,  that  Samuel  did  not  pass  into 
oblivion  nor  did  his  descendants  lose  their  affec- 
tion for  America.  He  lived  and  died  as  crown 
attorney  for  the  island  of  Antigua,  but  his  son 
Samuel  graduated  from  Harvard  and  practiced 
law  at  Lenox  until  his  death  in  1816.  His  son, 
another  Samuel,  became  a  noted  Bostonian.  He 
married  Mary  Hatch,  and,  after  she  passed  away, 
Abigail  Adams  Beale,  neighbor  to  the  Adamses 
in  Quincy.  Eight  children  were  born  to  him : 
three  by  his  second  wife, — Abby,  Josiah,  and 
Elizabeth,  who  married  E.  H.  Mills  Huntington. 
Josiah  Quincy,  Jr.,  was  born  February  23, 
1744.  The  rudiments  of  a  classical  education 
he  obtained  in  Braintree  under  the  tuition  of 
Joseph  Marsh,  son  of  the  minister,  who  also 
had  the  honor  of  preparing  John  Adams  for 
his  college  career.  Intimately  were  Josiah  and 
John  and  Samuel  associated  in  their  earlier  days. 
Together  Samuel  and  John  were  admitted  to 
the  Boston  bar,  and  most  dramatically  were  all 
three  connected  in  the  trial  of  Captain  Preston 
for  the  "  Boston  Massacre."  Samuel  opened 
the  case  for  the  crown ;  Josiah  and  John  fol- 
lowed, pleading  for  the  British  officer.  Colonel 
Quincy,  amazed,  sternly  rebuked  Josiah  for 
undertaking  the  defense  "  of  those  criminals 
charged  with  the  murder  of  their  fellow  citi- 
zens."     Memorable  is  his  reply :    "  To  inquire 


JOSIAH   QUINCY,   JR. 


THE  COLONIAL  COLONELS  181 

my  duty  and  do  it  is  my  sole  aim."  This  Boston 
Cicero,  as  John  Adams  called  him,  threw  himself 
with  all  his  pure  ideals  and  fervent  passions  into 
the  patriots'  cause,  and  from  the  beginning1  of 
his  career  was  freely  admitted  to  the  counsels  of 
his  elders.  "  He  was  one  of  the  first  that  said, 
in  plain  terms,  that  an  appeal  to  arms  was  inevi- 
table, and  a  separation  from  the  mother  country 
the  only  security  for  the  future."  When  the 
relations  between  the  colonies  and  the  mother 
country  became  more  strained,  and  it  was  felt  to 
be  important  that  some  one  should  represent  the 
patriot  party  in  England,  he  was  the  one  to  vol- 
unteer his  services.  Too  zealously  he  performed 
this  duty,  for  he  undermined  a  constitution  not 
at  all  robust.  He  set  sail  on  his  return  voyage 
in  March,  1775,  but,  delayed  by  baffling  winds,  he 
did  not  have  strength  enough  to  survive  it.  He 
lay  dying  off  Marblehead,  praying,  as  he  caught 
sight  of  land,  for  one  hour  with  his  fellow  patriots, 
Sam  Adams  and  Joseph  Warren.  Well  has  he 
been  called  "  the  Patriot,"  for  he  fell  a  martyr 
to  American  liberty  as  truly  as  did  any  who  sur- 
rendered their  lives  at  Lexington  or  Bunker  Hill. 
"  May  the  spirit  of  liberty  rest  upon  him !  " 
are  the  words  with  which  Josiah  Quincy,  Jr., 
ended  a  slight  bequest  of  great  books  to  his  son. 
That  son,  another  Josiah,  destined  to  surpass  all 
of  his  name  in  the  length,  and  perhaps  the  mag- 
nitude, of  his  services  to  his  country,  was  at  the 


182     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

time  of  his  father's  death  little  more  than  a  child. 
He  was  born  in  Boston  February  4,  1772.  With 
his  mother  he  fled  from  Boston  about  the  hour 
when  the  battle  of  Lexington  was  raging,  to  take 
refuge,  under  the  guidance  of  William  Phillips, 
Mrs.  Quincy's  father,  in  the  distant  town  of  Nor- 
wich, Connecticut.  It  wras  here  the  mother  heard 
of  the  expected  arrival  of  her  husband  at  Glou- 
cester. Leaving  her  son  with  her  father's  people, 
she  hurried  to  meet  him,  and  all  her  glad  antici- 
pations were  submerged  in  the  waves  of  sorrow 
which  met  her.  "  She  proceeded  immediately  to 
Braintree  to  share  her  grief  with  the  sorrowing 
household  there.  On  arriving  she  found  the 
family  scattered.  An  alarm  of  a  boat  attack  had 
caused  the  ladies  to  take  refuge  with  Mrs.  Adams 
at  the  foot  of  Penn's  Hill,  whither  Mrs.  Quincy 
went  without  delay,  and  received  all  the  consola- 
tion and  support  that  sympathy,  affection,  and 
friendship  could  afford." 

The  little  Josiah  —  he  was  the  third  of  the 
name  —  was  sent  to  Phillips  Academy  and  to  Har- 
vard, where  he  did  not  fail  to  distinguish  him- 
self. Then  he  filled  the  measure  of  his  mother's 
happiness  by  settling  down  with  her  in  Boston  ; 
a  happiness  which  overflowed  when  he  brought 
home,  in  1797,  Eliza  Susan  Morton,  his  wife. 
Thenceforward  his  advancement  was  as  continu- 
ous as  a  "  man  of  destiny."  Volumes  have  been 
written  about  the  career  and  achievements   of 


"W 

A 

jk      fat         -  mi 

PRESIDENT   JOSIAH    QUINCY 


THE  COLONIAL  COLONELS  183 

this  statesman  and  orator,  and  volumes  remain 
to  be  written.  A  State  senator  ;  a  member  of 
Congress,  attaining  leadership  of  the  Federal 
party  ;  mayor  of  Boston  for  six  years,  earning 
the  title  of  "  Great  Mayor ;  "  president  of  Har- 
vard for  sixteen  years ;  meanwhile  writing  his 
history  of  Boston,  of  the  Boston  Athenaeum,  of 
Harvard,  and  biographies  of  his  father  and  of 
John  Quincy  Adams.  Truly  a  busy  life,  yet  a 
serene  one,  "  compacted  of  Roman  and  Puritan 
virtues."  His  summers  he  spent  in  Quincy,  and 
there,  on  the  first  day  of  July,  1864,  "  as  quietly 
as  an  infant  sinks  to  slumber  he  ceased  to 
breathe."  His  long  and  honorable  life,  begin- 
ning before  the  Revolution,  almost  outlasted  the 
war  for  the  Union.  In  his  latter  days  he  visited 
annually  the  older  Quincy  mansion,  the  original 
home  of  his  race,  and  delighted  in  all  the  great 
memories  it  called  up. 

How  full  these  Quincy  homes  are  of  patriotic 
recollections  !  In  the  mansion  in  which  he  passed 
away,  President  Quincy  entertained  Lafayette  and 
frequently  welcomed  both  Adamses,  Daniel  Web- 
ster, and  other  celebrated  Americans.  In  1812  the 
watchers  from  its  windows  were  thrown  into  a 
state  of  excitement  by  the  entrance  into  the  har- 
bor of  the  old  Constitution  after  her  capture 
of  the  Guerriere.  A  few  days  later  the  heroes, 
Hull  and  Decatur,  breakfasted  at  the  mansion. 
Josiah,  the  fourth  of  the  name,  then  a  child, 


184    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

sat  on  Decatur's  knee,  playing  with  his  dirk  and 
looking  up  into  his  handsome  face. 

In  what  perplexing  profusion  the  Josiahs  and 
the  Edmunds  have  been  sprinkled  by  the  Quincy 
family  over  the  pages  of  history  !  This  fourth 
Josiah  was  one  of  the  sons  of  President  Quincy. 
He  was  an  important  man  in  his  day,  —  a  typi- 
cal Bostonian,  without  whom  no  public  function 
was  quite  complete,  thrice  mayor,  a  railroad  man 
with  ideas  of  expansion  in  advance  of  his  time, 
and  founder  of  the  cooperative  banks  so  help- 
ful to  the  workmen  of  Massachusetts.  In  his 
later  years  he  lived  altogether  in  Quincy,  a  mem- 
ber of  that  delightful  household  which  included 
his  three  unmarried  sisters,  Eliza  Susan,  Abby 
Phillips,  and  Sophia  M.  How  pleasant  are  the 
reminiscences  of  the  gracious  hospitalities  of  that 
home,  with  its  old-time  atmosphere,  its  anecdotes 
of  the  great  men  of  the  past,  and  its  commendation 
of  Jane  Austen's  "  Emma  "  and  similar  books  ! 

Another  son  of  the  president  was  Edmund, 
who  lived  in  Dedham.  He  was  a  strong  anti- 
slavery  man,  effectively  assisting  the  cause  by 
his  fearless  and  frequent  editorials.  Many  writ- 
ings besides  flowed  from  his  ready  pen  :  "  The 
Haunted  Adjutant,  and  other  Stories,"  "  Wens- 
ley,  and  other  Stories,"  etc.  His  son,  Dr.  Henry 
Quincy  of  Dedham,  recently  passed  away.  The 
married  daughters  of  President  Quincy  are  Mrs. 
Robert  Waterston  and  Mrs.  B.  D.  Greene. 


THE  COLOXIAL  COLONELS  185 

In  the  next  generation  the  children  of  the 
fourth  Josiah  are  Josiah  Phillips,  Samuel  M.,  and 
Mrs.  Benjamin  Apthorp  Gould.  In  Samuel  was 
revived  once  more  the  military  traditions  of  his 
race  and  the  title  of  "  Colonel."  With  distinc- 
tion he  served  as  colonel  of  the  Second  Massa- 
chusetts Regiment,  suffered  in  the  prisons  of  the 
Confederacy,  and  when  exchanged  went  once 
more  to  the  front  at  the  head  of  a  colored  regi- 
ment.  His  brother,  Josiah  P.,  devoted  to  the 
more  peaceful  ways  of  literature,  but  in  it  war- 
ring for  truth,  sociological  and  spiritual,  is  the 
one  of  his  family  through  whom  the  honored 
name  Josiah  is  passed  on  to  still  another  gen- 
eration. His  son  Josiah,  in  these  recent  years 
mayor  of  Boston,  is  the  sixth  of  the  name.  Even 
before  his  advent  some  one  wittily  said  of  the 
Quincys  that,  while  with  other  families  the  de- 
scent was  from  sire  to  son,  in  their  case  it  was 
from  'Siah  to  'Siah.  The  obvious  pun  on  the  sur- 
name has  also  been  perpetrated  with  a  turn  so 
apposite  as  to  lift  it  out  of  the  commonplace. 
The  Rev.  Mather  Byles,  long  celebrated  in  Bos- 
ton as  a  wit,  in  his  younger  days,  it  is  said,  made 
advances  to  a  lady  who  refused  his  suit.  After- 
wards she  married  a  Quincy,  and  Dr.  Byles  meet- 
ing her  remarked,  "  So,  madam,  it  appears  that 
you  prefer  Quincy  to  Byles."  "Yes,"  she  replied, 
"  for  if  there  had  been  anything  worse  than  biles, 
God  would  have  afflicted  Job  with  them." 


186    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

Now  that  this  slight  history  of  the  Quincy 
family  lias  been  brought  down  through  its  lead- 
ing members  to  the  present  time,  it  would  be 
well  to  return  to  the  history  of  the  old  mansion 
in  which  the  race  began  its  career  in  America, 
and  note  briefly  its  occupants  and  owners  since 
it  passed  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Quincys. 

The  old  house  was  alienated  in  the  days  of 
Squire  Edmund.  In  1755  he  mortgaged  it  or 
sold  it  to  his  brother-in-law,  Edward  Jackson, 
styling  the  home  my  "  mansion  house,"  and 
estimating  his  land  at  about  two  hundred  and 
fifty  acres.  The  transaction  is  effected  for 
"  £675  lawful  money  of  Great  Britain."  After 
this,  for  several  years,  as  has  been  related,  he 
lived  in  the  mansion.  Upon  the  death  of  Ed- 
ward Jackson,  in  1763,  his  executors  definitively 
parted  with  the  property,  selling  it  for  £2400, 
"  lawful  money  of  the  Province."  The  title  is 
now  held  for  a  short  time  by  Mary  Alleyne  of 
Milton,  and  by  Benjamin  Beale  of  Braintree, 
and  finally  passes,  February  19,  1788,  into  the 
hands  of  Moses  Black  of  Boston.  It  is  then 
that  Oliver  Wendell  and  Mary  (Jackson)  Wen- 
dell, his  wife,  the  heirs  of  Edward  Jackson, 
"  release,  remise  and  quitclaim,"  whatever  in- 
terest in  the  estate  remains  to  them. 

Moses  Black  and  his  family  were  the  first  to 
occupy  the  mansion  permanently  after  it  had 
passed   out  of   the  possession   of   the  Quincys. 


JOSIAH   QUINCY,   MAYOR   OF    BOSTON,  1S46-48 


THE   COLONIAL  COLONELS  187 

Once  more  the  brook,  or  creek,  has  its  name 
changed,  and  thenceforward  is  known  as  "Black's 
Creek."  Mr.  Black  was  a  Protestant  Irishman, 
in  his  origins  probably  a  Scotsman,  and  con- 
nected with  that  band  of  Scotch-Irish  immi- 
grants who  founded  the  Federal  Street  Church 
in  Boston  (now  Arlington  Street  Church),  made 
famous  subsequently  by  its  greatest  preacher,  Dr. 
Channing.  His  father,  it  is  surmised,  was  the 
"  Capt.  Samuel  Black  of  Ireland,"  buried  in  Bos- 
ton's Old  Granary  Burying-Ground  about  1749. 
He  had  a  brother  named  Andrew,  a  prosperous 
shipping  merchant  of  Boston,  and  father  of 
Anna,  or  Roxanna,  Black,  a  celebrated  beauty 
in  her  day.  An  article  in  the  Boston  "  Daily 
Globe,"  by  Alexander  Corbett,  Jr.,  states  she 
was  married  on  January  6, 1793,  to  Joseph  Blake, 
Jr.,  a  son  of  the  former  partner  of  her  father. 
It  is  likely  she  was  a  frequent  visitor  to  Brain- 
tree  (or  that  part  of  it  incorporated  as  Quincy 
in  1792),  where  her  Uncle  Moses  was  becoming 
an  honored  citizen.  He  is  appointed  on  im- 
portant committees,  is  chosen  moderator  of  town 
meetings,  and  is  elected  to  the  General  Court. 
On  September  30,  1799,  it  was  "  voted  that  the 
thanks  of  the  town  be  returned  President  Adams 
and  Mr.  Moses  Black  for  the  present  to  the  town 
of  a  clock  in  the  meeting-house."  He  died  in 
1810,  bequeathing  $1000  each  to  Anna  Black 
Lamb  and  Mrs.  Roxanna  Blake,  widow  of  Joseph 


188    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

Blake,  Jr.,  and  all  his  real  estate  in  Quincy  to  his 
wife,  "  provided  that  if  my  said  wife  marry  again, 
then  I  give  and  devise  one-half  of  said  Quincy 
real  estate  to  Anna  Hall."  Thus  provoked  to 
continue  in  her  widowhood,  she  highly  resolved 
to  receive  into  her  home  during  the  summer 
months  "  the  gentility  of  Boston."  Her  ghost 
now  walks  the  halls  and  grounds  of  the  old  man- 
sion. Why  hers  above  all  who  ever  lived  there, 
is  beyond  guessing,  unless  it  be  in  anxious  pur- 
suit of  what  "  Boston  gentility,"  through  those 
long  summer  days,  thought  its  due. 

In  1825  Mrs.  Black  sold  the  entire  place  for 
$12,400  to  Elizabeth  Greenleaf,  wife  of  Daniel 
Greenleaf.  Notable  people  were  the  Greenleafs 
in  the  Quincy  of  that  day.  There  was  Daniel, 
who  occupied  the  mansion,  and  his  sister  Pris- 
cilla,  the  widow  of  John  Appleton ;  there  was 
John,  the  brother  of  Daniel,  whose  wife  Lucy 
was  the  daughter  of  Judge  Richard  Cranch, 
and  who  occupied  the  ancient  Cranch  house  on 
School  Street ;  and  there  was  Thomas,  a  cousin 
of  Daniel  and  John,  who  for  fifty  years  lived 
in  a  beautiful  home  on  Adams  Street.  Highly 
esteemed  were  they  in  all  the  families  of  them  : 
related  backward  to  Sheriff  Greenleaf  of  Boston, 
and  the  Cranches  and  Abigail  Adams ;  and  for- 
ward to  the  Greenleafs,  merchants  of  Boston, 
to  the  Appletons,  to  true-hearted  Harrison  J. 
Dawes,  and  others  of  that  name. 


JOSIAH   QUINCY,    MAYOR   OF    BOSTON,  1896- 


THE   COLONIAL   COLONELS  189 

From  the  Greenleafs  the  mansion  now  passed 
into  the  hands  of  Dr.  Ebenezer  Woodward, 
whose  wife  was  the  youngest  daughter  of  Thomas 
Greenleaf.  The  old  doctor,  strong  in  his  likes 
and  dislikes,  thrifty  and  yet  generous,  individual, 
indeed,  as  were  most  of  the  men  of  his  day  and 
profession,  cherished  for  chief  purpose  the  re- 
dressing of  the  balance  of  educational  opportu- 
nities in  the  town  of  Quincy.  John  Adams  had 
founded  an  academy  for  boys  ;  he  would  estab- 
lish one  for  girls.  So  in  his  will  he  bequeathed 
his  estate  to  this  end,  suggesting  that  the  Insti- 
tute be  built  on  a  portion  of  his  land  opposite 
the  Hancock  lot,  on  which  the  Adams  Academy 
stands.  Some  sixty  thousand  dollars  or  more 
fell  to  the  Woodward  Institute,  and  there  it 
stands  to-day,  facing  the  older  school  and  emu- 
lating its  beneficent  work. 

It  was  during  the  thirty  years  or  more  the 
town  authorities  held  the  estate  in  trust  that  it 
was  occupied  by  the  Hon.  Peter  Butler.  At  first 
a  refuge  in  summer  from  the  city's  heat  and 
noise,  it  soon  was  made  his  permanent  resi- 
dence. He  loved  the  place  for  its  idyllic  beauty 
and  for  its  charming  history.  He  saturated  him- 
self with  its  traditions.  All  its  antiquities  he 
searched  out  and  cherished,  and  every  noble  or 
humorous  story  he  enjoyed  and  related  with 
keen  relish.  Again,  as  in  the  old  days,  life 
brimmed  and  flooded  the  mansion,  the  farm  was 


190    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

kept  up,  and  the  great  barn  stocked  -with  a  large 
herd  of  fine  cattle.  Natural  it  seemed  for  Mr. 
Butler,  when  released  from  affairs  in  the  city  and 
public  duties,  to  enter  into  the  restful  life  "  of  a 
sound  and  honest  rustic  Squire." 

When  the  older  part  of  the  mansion  was  built 
by  William  Coddington,  his  minister  was  the 
Rev.  John  Wilson,  pastor  of  Boston  church,  and 
spiritual  guide  of  all  who  were  taking  up  farms 
in  the  region  now  included  in  the  towns  of 
Quincy  and  Braintree.  Two  hundred  and  fifty 
years  afterward  the  minister  of  the  church  which 
in  1639  succeeded  Coddington's  and  Wheel- 
wright's Chapel  of  Ease,  was  also  named  Wilson. 
It  is  a  coincidence  which  was  glanced  at  when 
the  First  Church  of  Christ  in  Quincy  celebrated 
its  two  hundred  and  fiftieth  anniversary.  There 
is  no  kinship  between  the  ministers,  but  it  seemed 
pleasant  to  look  upon  the  fact  as  a  finishing 
touch  to  the  cycle  then  completed.  This  latter- 
day  parson  became  occupant  and  owner  of  the 
mansion,  and,  like  all  who  have  lived  in  it  before 
him,  came  to  delight  in  its  picturesqueness  and 
the  wealth  of  its  noble  traditions.  If,  in  this 
story  he  has  attempted  to  tell,  he  shall  awaken 
in  others  similar  delight  in  the  great  "  Figures 
of  the  Past,"  he  will  feel  himself  doubly  favored 
in  the  fortunate  chance  which  brought  him 
under  this  famous  roof-tree. 


IX 

DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS 

What  a  charm,  what  a  flavor  of  old  romance, 
what  a  gleam  of  high-hearted  ways  and  swift 
conquests,  there  is  for  us  in  the  name  Dorothy ! 
Always  cherished  by  Americans  from  the  early 
days  of  the  first  "  Dorothy  Q.,"  it  has  now  be- 
come more  than  ever  a  choice  title  to  bestow 
upon  those  possibilities  of  all  perfection,  "  trail- 
ing clouds  of  glory  "  as  they  come,  who  are  to 
unfold  into  the  splendor  of  womanhood  for  which 
our  race  is  famed.  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 
certainly  stimulated  the  love  for  the  name  by 
his  tuneful  praise  of  the  Dorothy  who  brought 
him  — 

"  Mother  and  sister  and  child  and  wife, 
And  joy  and  sorrow  and  death  and  life." 

The  revival,  also,  of  interest  in  ancient  days  and 
colonial  dames,  as  certainly  has  deepened  the 
affection.  But  back  of  the  name  and  the  plea- 
sant sound  of  it,  back  of  all  that  poets  have 
sung  and  historians  have  said  of  it,  there  must 
be  an  entrancing  ideal,  a  vision  of  worth  and 
loveliness,  a  haunting  radiance,  which  dawns 
upon  the  consciousness  whenever  the  word  Doro- 


192    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

thy  breaks  upon  eye  or  ear.  Few  may  clearly  re- 
alize what  affects  them  in  the  name,  but  were  we 
to  make  captive  our  fleeting  impressions,  should 
we  not  discern  a  luminous  presence,  the  compo- 
site of  all  the  Dorothys  we  have  seen  in  picture 
or  read  of  in  story?  Is  not  this  airy  nothing 
our  dream  of  the  fair  American  dame  of  other 
days?  Is  it  not  woven  of  our  conceptions  of 
the  simple,  modest  graces  of  the  Puritan  maiden 
and  the  stately  presence,  pompadour  crowned, 
which  moved  through  Washington's  court  and 
Hancock's  levee,  conquering  and  to  conquer? 
Now  the  one  and  now  the  other  conception  pre- 
dominates, and  again  they  mingle,  if  that  be 
possible  ;  but  through  every  winning  transfor- 
mation one  thing  persists,  an  ideal  of  divinely 
sweet  and  true  womanhood,  —  Dorothea,  gift  of 
God. 

The  name  appears  early  in  our  history.  It 
was  brought  by  the  first  settlers  from  the  yeo- 
man soil  of  England,  with  the  daisy  and  the 
apple  blossom.  In  it  there  was  enough  of  noble 
association  and  musical  sound  to  strengthen  it 
against  the  deluge  of  Hebrew  names  which 
swept  in  with  the  Puritan  reformation.  Side  by 
side  with  Priscilla  and  Abigail  and  Martha,  it 
held  its  own  and  swayed  the  hearts  and  homes 
of  our  forefathers.  Old  Braintree,  Massachu- 
setts, in  that  portion  now  called  Quincy,  is  the 
scene  where  the  name  rooted  itself  in  vital  bloom 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   193 

and  perennial  vigor.  There  "  Dorothy  Q."  of 
Holmes's  poem  was  born,  there  "  Hancock's 
Dorothy "  grew  to  womanhood.  Before  these, 
however,  were  others  of  their  race,  gracious  and 
wise  women,  who  honored  this  font  name. 

The  great  mother  of  all  the  famous  New  Eng- 
land Dorothys  is  Dorothy  Flynt,  daughter  of  the 
Rev.  Henry  Flynt  and  his  wife  Margery  (Hoar) 
Flynt.  Progenitors  are  these  of  some  of  the 
most  distinguished  families  of  America.  The 
Holmeses,  the  Wendells,  the  Lowells,  the  Jack- 
sons,  the  Quincys,  the  Adamses,  the  Salsburys, 
and  other  historic  persons  make  illustrious  their 
descent  from  the  excellent  stock  represented  in 
the  worthy  pastor  and  his  wife. 

Henry  Flynt  was  a  young  man  of  unusual 
abilities  when  he  was  settled  as  teacher  over  the 
First  Church  in  Braintree,  now  Quincy.  Mar- 
gery, "  his  beloved  consort,  .  .  .  was  a  gentle- 
woman of  piety,  prudence,  and  peculiarly  ac- 
complished for  instructing  young  gentlewomen  ; 
many  being  sent  to  her  from  other  towns,  espe- 
cially from  Boston.  They  descended  from  an- 
cient and  good  families  in  England."  Indeed,  the 
mother  of  Margery  was  that  Joanna  Hoar,  widow 
of  the  sheriff  of  Gloucester,  herself  a  gentle- 
woman of  strong  character,  who  was  connected, 
through  the  marriage  of  her  son  Leonard  to 
Bridget  Lisle,  with  the  fated  Lady  Alicia  Lisle. 
The  line  of  our  Senator  George  F.  Hoar  proudly 


194     WHERE   AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

looks  to  her  for  its  origin  ;  and  it  "  may  fairly 
be  questioned,"  writes  Mr.  C.  F.  Adams  in  his 
"  Three  Episodes  of  Massachusetts  History," 
"  whether  in  the  whole  wide  field  of  American 
genealogy  there  is  any  strain  of  blood  more  fruit- 
ful of  distinguished  men  than  that  which  issued 
from  the  widow  of  the  seventeenth-century  sher- 
iff." "Distinguished  men!"  Are  they  alone  to 
be  remembered !  "  They  reckon  ill  who  leave 
me  out,"  might  Abigail  Adams  say,  and  many 
another  wise  and  loving  lady  of  that  celebrated 
strain  of  blood.  From  the  widow  Joanna,  down 
through  every  generation  since,  they  are  to  be 
recognized,  not  only  in  the  happiness  of  their 
husbands  and  the  nobleness  of  their  children, 
but  in  their  own  force  of  character  and  high 
and  faithful  service. 

Into  this  noble  kinship  and  illustrious  line  of 
men  and  women  Dorothy  I.  was  born  August 
21,  1642.  We  know  little  more  about  this  earli- 
est Dorothy  except  that  she  was  married  to  the 
worthy  Samuel  Shepperd,  minister  of  Rowley, 
Mass.,  on  the  30th  of  April,  1666.  There  is, 
however,  testimony  of  some  value  to  the  affection 
in  which  she  was  held  by  her  brother  Josiah,  in 
the  fact  of  his  naming  after  her  his  one  daughter 
who  lived  to  maturity. 

This  Dorothy  II.  was  born  in  Dorchester, 
Mass.,  May  11,  1678.  Her  father,  Josiah  Flynt, 
son  of  Henry  Flynt,  was  minister  of  First  Church 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   195 

in  that  town,  and  in  the  very  year  of  his  settle- 
ment, 1671,  married,  at  Swansey,  Esther,  the 
daughter  of  Captain  Thomas  Willet,  the  first 
mayor  of  New  York.  It  was  in  Braintree,  how- 
ever, that  Dorothy  was  brought  up,  for  her  father 
died  when  she  was  scarcely  two  years  old,  and  her 
mother,  it  seems,  with  her  little  brood,  removed 
at  once  to  the  place  of  her  husband's  nativity. 
There  among  his  kindred  she  was  sure  of  a 
warm  welcome.  Perhaps  she  was  asked  to  keep 
house  for  Edmund  Quincy  in  the  old  Quincy 
mansion.  His  wife,  Joanna  (Hoar)  Quincy,  who 
was  sister  to  Margery  (Hoar)  Flynt,  her  hus- 
band's mother,  had  passed  away  the  previous 
May.  Margery  herself  was  still  living,  a  gran- 
dame  of  "  faculty  "  for  all  her  years  ;  and  there 
were  uncles  and  aunts  "  too  numerous  to  men- 
tion." Hearts  and  homes  were  invitingly  open 
to  her,  and  here  in  old  Braintree  she  lived  and 
died,  attaining  the  full  age  of  eighty-nine  years. 
Not  large  was  her  family,  only  Henry  and  Doro- 
thy surviving  of  the  four  children  born  to  her, 
and  there  would  be  little  difficulty  in  bringing 
them  up  in  the  midst  of  such  hospitable  sur- 
roundings. Dorothy  would  have  for  playmates, 
as  she  blossomed  into  girlhood,  the  children  of  all 
the  families  of  the  better  sort  in  the  North  Pre- 
cinct. Among  them  were  the  numerous  offspring 
of  the  Adamses,  Basses,  Savils,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  Quincys,  now  increased  by  the  speedy  second 


196    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

marriage  of  Edmund  to  the  Widow  Gookin,  seven 
months  after  the  death  of  his  first  wife.  The  lit- 
tle Edmund  Quincy,  born  in  1681,  was  her  junior 
by  three  years.  Their  pleasant  neighborhood  in- 
timacies ripened  rapidly  into  affectionate  relations, 
and  but  a  month  beyond  his  twentieth  year,  on 
November  20,  1701,  they  were  united  in  mar- 
riage. 

Viewed  from  either  side  the  match  was  a 
felicitous  one.  The  strain  of  the  virile  Hoar 
family  already  had  been  united  with  the  steadily 
climbing  virtues  of  the  Quincy  family,  and  now 
the  keen  intellectual  qualities  of  the  Flynts  were 
to  be  intermingled  through  the  beautiful  Doro- 
thy. This  first  "  Dorothy  Q."  is  not  born,  but 
made,  —  changed  by  marriage  from  Dorothy  F. 
to  Dorothy  Q.  But  no  gift  of  seer  is  required 
to  discern  in  her,  as  source  and  origin  of  Doro- 
thys yet  to  be,  illustrious  prefigurement  of  the 
"  miracle  of  noble  womanhood  "  which  so  richly 
adorns  her  line.  Lovelier  than  her  name,  as  Ten- 
nyson says  of  flowers,  we  may  deem  her ;  wise 
and  good  most  surely.  And  do  not  these  qualities 
of  themselves,  "  an  inner  lamping  light,"  im- 
part to  the  face  of  her  who  is  simply  one  of  the 
fair  sex  a  beauty  quite  beyond  that  of  classical 
outline  and  clearness  of  complexion  ?  She  was 
fitting  helpmeet  to  a  husband  commanding  in 
presence  and  ability.  The  first  citizen  of  Brain- 
tree  he,  she  the  first  lady.    And  when  he,  youth- 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   197 

ful  still,  had  won  by  merit  a  distinguished  place 
in  the  colony,  she  shared  and  graced  the  distinc- 
tion. 

Her  sisterly  affection  also  is  apparent  in  the 
addition  made  to  the  Quincy  mansion  for  the 
convenience  of  her  only  brother,  the  facetious 
Henry  Flynt,  tutor  at  Harvard  for  fifty-five 
years.  In  a  two-story  L,  study  and  chamber 
were  provided  for  him,  where  he  might  rest  from 
college  labors  and  come  under  her  immediate 
care.  Her  mother,  too,  found  a  home  with  her, 
ending  her  days  under  that  hospitable  roof  in 
July,  1737. 

A  few  weeks  later,  just  as  her  husband  was 
about  to  start  for  England  to  defend  the  rights 
of  Massachusetts  in  the  boundary  dispute  be- 
tween that  colony  and  New  Hampshire,  Dorothy 
herself  suddenly  passed  away.  "  He  intermarried 
with  Dorothy  Flynt,"  runs  the  quaint  obituary 
in  the  "  Weekly  Journal "  of  that  day,  "  whom 
he  buried  the  29th  of  August  last.  God  blessed 
them  with  ten  children,  four  of  whom  survive  in 
great  sorrow."  These  words  are  really  from  the 
notice  of  his  own  death,  so  soon  did  he  join  her  in 
the  silent  land.  He  took  with  him  to  England 
the  ache  in  his  heart  for  the  death  of  his  be- 
loved Dorothy,  "  sweet  and  gracious  woman " 
that  she  was,  and  succumbed  all  the  more  easily 
to  inoculation  for  the  smallpox,  to  which,  as  a 
precautionary  measure,  he  submitted.     He  was 


198    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

buried  in  Bunhill  Fields,  where  reposes  the  dust 
of  Bunyan,  in  February  of  that  grievous  year 
1737-8,  and  on  April  23,  1738,  his  pastor,  John 
Hancock,  preached  the  funeral  sermon.  The 
children  were  in  front  of  him,  seated  in  their 
pew,  or  on  the  fore-seats  in  the  old  meeting- 
house; and  looking  sorrowfully  upon  them  he 
addressed  them  in  words  which,  though  spoken 
more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  still 
quiver  with  the  agony  of  their  burden.  "  The 
blessed  God  hath  seen  meet  to  break  you  with 
Breach  upon  Breach ;  first  in  the  death  of  your 
pious  Grandmother  Flynt,  in  a  good  old  age, 
and  then  in  the  sudden  death  of  your  virtuous 
mother." 

Dorothy  III.,  the  "Dorothy  Q."  of  Dr.  Holmes's 
poem,  was  one  of  the  children  over  whom  rolled 
these  sorrowful  words.  She  was  now  some  twen- 
ty-nine years  old,  having  been  born  January  4, 
1709.  Here  is  the  ancient  form  in  which  the 
birth  was  set  down  in  the  town  records :  "  Dora- 
thy,  ye  Daughter  of  Edmund  Quinsey,  Esqr,  & 
Ms  Dorathy,  his  wife,  was  born  ye  4th  January, 
1709."  This  entry  was  included  in  a  note  sent 
to  Dr.  Holmes  in  1889.  In  his  reply  he  wrote, 
"  I  was  pleased  to  learn  from  your  note  that 
'Dorothy  Q.'  —  my  Dorothy,  not  Governor  Han- 
cock's, who  was  her  niece  —  was  born  in  1709, 
just  a  hundred  years  before  I  came  into  atmos- 
pheric existence."     The  large  south  chamber,  it 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   199 

is  conjectured,  was  the  scene  of  this  advent ;  a 
room  with  a  sunny  exposure,  and  since  called  the 
"  Dorothy."  Uncongenial  was  the  season  chosen 
to  usher  into  the  world  the  little  maid,  and, 
though  the  logs  blazed  high  in  the  open  fire- 
place night  and  day,  the  sun  would  prove  a 
most  welcome  aid  to  impart  warmth  and  cheer. 
Baptism  soon  should  have  followed  birth  accord- 
ing to  the  custom  of  that  day,  but  Mistress 
Quincy  entertained  the  opinion,  perhaps,  that 
the  daughter  of  a  minister  "  hath  a  privilege," 
and  so  would  not  commit  her  "  wee  Dolly  "  to 
the  rude  blasts  of  winter  and  the  deadly  chill 
of  the  unheated  church.  But  really  there  seems 
to  have  been  in  the  parents  a  confirmed  habit  of 
procrastination  with  regard  to  this  rite,  for  Doro- 
thy was  not  baptized  till  April  30, 1721,  and  then 
were  "  Colonel  Quinsey's  family  all  baptized." 

By  this  time  she  had  expanded  into  promise 
of  ideal  Puritan  maidenhood,  —  "  modest  and 
simple  and  sweet "  as  the  Mayflower  unfolds  in 
the  shade  of  the  forest.  How  peaceful  her  en- 
vironment !  that  household  so  wisely  ordered 
and  so  industrious  !  that  companionship  with  the 
brook  and  the  shore,  the  flowers  and  the  trees,  all 
so  free,  so  natural !  Liberated  from  simple  home 
duties,  easy  is  it  to  imagine  her  walking  the 
meadow  paths,  fed  by  her  own  pure  fancies,  up- 
lifted by  thoughts  selected  among  a  thousand 
by  her  own  temperament,  cherishing  the  aspira- 


200    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

tions  native  to  her  own  soul,  and  so  educated 
along  individual  lines  into  serious,  self-reliant 
womanhood.  Abigail  Adams,  and  many  another 
noble  woman  who  might  be  named,  grew  up  in 
this  fashion,  leading  us  to  wonder  if  the  very 
essence  of  education,  of  soul-forming,  is  not  lost 
in  modern  schools  and  colleges,  where  so  little 
space  is  left  for  one's  own  thoughts  and  the  pro- 
cesses of  individual  expansion. 

Dorothy's  existence  was  delightfully  varied 
now  and  then  by  visits  to  relatives  in  "  Boston, 
the  metropolis  of  our  country,"  as  her  father 
called  it.  In  these  early  years  she  even  went  as 
far  as  Springfield ;  and  it  is  from  letters  written 
her  while  there  by  her  father  that  we  get  the 
one  authentic  glimpse,  which,  with  the  famous 
portrait,  makes  her  real  to  us.  One  of  the  let- 
ters, preserved  by  Miss  Eliza  Susan  Quincy,  and 
published  in  the  "  New  England  Historical  and 
Genealogical  Register,"  is  as  follows :  — 

Braintree,  July  8,  1724. 

Mv  dear  Daughter,  —  This  is  to  bring  you  the  good 
news  of  my  safe  return  home  commencement  day  in  the 
evening,  and  finding  your  mother  in  good  health. 

With  this  you  will  have  from  your  sister  Betsey  the 
things  you  wrote  for  by  me,  and  from  your  brother  Ed- 
mund a  small  present.  My  child,  you  are  peculiarly  fa- 
vored among  your  friends  in  these  parts  in  having  a  good 
word  spoken  of  you,  and  good  wishes  made  for  you  by 
everybody  ;  let  this  hint  be  improved  only  to  quicken  and 
encourage  you  in  virtue  and  a  good  life. 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   201 

My  love  to  all  the  family  in  which  you  are,  with  your 
mother's  and  Grandmother's  also,  to  them  and  you. 
I  am  your  dear  and  loving  father, 

E.  Quincy. 

Half  a  yard  of  muslin  being  too  little  for  two  head- 
dresses, your  sister  has  sent  you  one  yard  wanting  half  a 
quarter,  which  cost  ten  and  sixpence,  —  and  the  thread 
(lace)  cost  fourteen  shillings ;  so  much  I  paid  for,  and  't  is 
the  best  thread  and  muslin  of  the  price. 

In  another  of  these  letters  written  November 
9,  1724,  he  writes  :  — 

"  Your  sister  Bettey  will  be  married  the  12th  day  of  this 
month  (that  is  next  Thursday  night)  if  health  permit. 

"  You  may  and  ought  to  wish  her  joy  and  happiness  in 
the  new  relation  and  condition  she  is  entering  into  though 
you  are  at  a  great  distance  from  her.  We  make  no  wed- 
ding for  her  but  only  a  small  entertainment  on  Friday, 
for  a  few  friends  that  may  happen  to  be  present.  You  '11 
hear  the  particulars  perhaps  from  your  brother  Edmund  or 
Josiah  after  't  is  over.  Your  mother  has  sent  you  the  muslin 
Pattern,  Thread  and  needles,  a  Knott  and  girdle  the  Gown 
and  quilted  coat  are  not  sent  at  present  your  mother  thinks 
you  may  do  without  the  gown  and  if  you  can  possibly  't  is 
best  that  you  may  not  have  too  great  a  pack  of  things  to 
bring  back  and  besides  we  are  apt  to  think  't  is  best  you 
should  keep  in  and  not  expose  yourself  this  winter  (though 
you  be  better)  lest  you  fall  back  again  by  catching  cold. 
Before  Spring  you  may  write  further  if  need  be  for  a  sup- 
ply. The  silk  for  Mrs.  Hooker  is  also  sent  and  the  price  is 
1.3.10  being  7s.  4d.  a  yard  you  may  acquaint  her. 

"  Pray  give  my  kind  salutation  to  her  and  Mr.  Hooker 
with  all  the  family  and  your  mother  also  my  regards  to  Dr. 
Porter  and  Mr.  Whitman  if  you  see  him  and  he  inquires 
after  me." 


202     WHERE  AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

One  more  letter  remains,  as  interesting  as  the 
others  in  the  light  it  throws  upon  Dorothy  and 
her  kindred  of  those  days.  No  part  of  it  can  be 
omitted. 

Braintkee,  May  6th,  1725. 

Dear  Child,  —  Your  mother  and  I  were  not  so  willing 
to  have  you  leave  us  though  for  your  own  good,  hut  now 
as  desirous  to  see  you  here  again  were  it  for  the  hest. 
Accept  this  expression  as  from  the  best  of  your  earthly 
friends  (your  dear  Parents)  who  think  of  you  every  day 
and  hope  to  hear  of  you  oftener  than  of  late. 

The  last  of  your  letters  I  have  yet  received  was  dated 
March  6th. 

I  have  wrote  since  then  once  or  twice  but  know  not 
whether  they  have  come  to  your  hand.  I  expect  a  letter 
from  you  and  Dr.  Porter  every  day. 

Your  brother  Edmund  you  have  heard  I  suppose  is 
married  and  I  hope  very  happily  and  that  we  shall  have 
joy  and  comfort  in  this  double  relation  to  Mr.  Wendells 
family.  Brother  Wendell  and  his  wife  from  New  York 
was  at  the  wedding  and  have  since  been  at  our  house  a  few 
days  and  are  returning  in  a  short  time  home  by  the  way 
of  Rhode  Island  as  they  came.  The  new  married  couple 
are  yet  at  their  uncles  house  but  are  to  live  with  brother 
Wendell  and  his  wife  and  Miss  Molly  Higginson  is  going 
from  hence  to-morrow  to  live  with  them,  and  your  mother 
will  be  destitute  of  a  companion  and  assistant  again  but  I 
hope  will  be  provided  for. 

I  am  going  on  Monday  next  to  Piscataqua  to  keep  court 
at  Ipswich  and  York  to  be  absent  about  a  fortnight. 
I  am  your  loving  father, 

Edmund  Quincy. 

What  a  vivid  and  charming  picture  of  life  in 
the  old  homestead  is  outlined  in  these  letters  ! 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   203 

And  Dorothy,  demure  Dorothy,  who  is  well 
spoken  of  by  every  one,  is  so  beloved  by  the 
Hookers  of  Springfield  that  they  would  like  to 
keep  her  with  them  forever  !  Is  she  herself  al- 
most flattered  by  their  affection  into  staying? 
However  that  may  be,  her  parents  long  for  her 
with  a  deeper  longing,  now  that  Edmund  and 
Bettey  are  married  and  away,  and  she  is  lured 
back  to  her  home.  It  is  about  this  time  that 
the  celebrated  portrait  of  her  was  painted,  as  we 
guess.  The  story  of  it  as  told  by  Dr.  Holmes  is 
as  follows :  — 

"  The  painting  hung  in  the  house  of  my 
grandfather  Oliver  Wendell,  which  was  occupied 
by  British  officers  before  the  evacuation  of  Bos- 
ton. One  of  these  gentlemen  amused  himself  by 
stabbing  poor  Dorothy  (the  pictured  one)  as  near 
the  right  eye  as  his  swordsmanship  would  serve 
him  to  do  it.  The  canvas  was  so  decayed  that 
it  became  necessary  to  remomit  the  painting,  in 
the  process  of  doing  which  the  hole  made  by  the 
rapier  was  lost  sight  of.  I  took  some  photo- 
graphs of  the  picture  before  it  was  transferred 
to  the  new  canvas." 

"  Grandmother's  mother  :  her  age,  I  guess, 
Thirteen  summers,  or  something  less  ; 
Girlish  bust,  but  womanly  air  ; 
Smooth,  square  forehead  with  uprolled  hair  ; 
Lips  that  lover  has  never  kissed  ; 
Taper  fingers  and  slender  wrist  ; 
Hanging  sleeves  of  stiff  brocade  ; 
So  they  painted  the  little  maid. 


204     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

"  On  her  hand  a  parrot  green 
Sits  nnmoving  and  hroods  serene. 
Hold  up  the  canvas  full  in  view,  — 
Look  !  there  's  a  rent  the  light  shines  through, 
Dark  with  a  century's  fringe  of  dust, — 
That  was  a  Red-Coat's  rapier-thrust ! 
Such  is  the  tale  the  lady  old, 
Dorothy's  daughter's  daughter,  told. 

"  Who  the  painter  was  none  may  tell,  — 
One  whose  hest  was  not  over  well  ; 
Hard  and  dry,  it  must  be  confessed, 
Flat  as  a  rose  that  has  long  been  pressed  ; 
Yet  in  her  cheek  the  hues  are  bright, 
Dainty  colors  of  red  and  white, 
And  in  her  slender  shape  are  seen 
Hint  and  promise  of  stately  mien. 

"  Look  not  on  her  with  eyes  of  scorn,  — 
Dorothy  Q.  was  a  lady  born  ! 
Ay  !  since  the  galloping  Normans  came, 
England's  annals  have  known  her  name  ; 
And  still  to  the  three-hilled  rebel  town 
Dear  is  that  ancient  name's  renown, 
For  many  a  civic  wreath  they  won, 
The  youthful  sire  and  the  gray-haired  son." 

Soon  after  the  publication  of  the  poem  Dr. 
Holmes  wrote  a  note  to  Miss  Eliza  Susan  Quincy, 
in  response  to  an  appreciative  one  written  by 
her,  in  which  he  says,  "  I  am  very  glad  you  were 
pleased  with  *  Dorothy  Q.'  I  hope  when  her 
portrait  comes  back  with  its  wound  healed  and 
its  youth  restored  you  will  come  and  take  a  look 
at  it.  I  would  send  you  one  of  my  photographs 
of  the  picture  —  if  I  could  lay  my  hands  on  it  — 
with  this  note,  but  I  have  so  lately  moved  to  a 


DOROTHY  Q. 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS      205 

new  house  that  I  cannot  at  once  find  many 
things  I  want.  I  will  remember  to  hunt  one 
up  for  you,  and  if  you  do  not  get  it  within 
four  weeks  I  beg  you  will  remind  me  of  my 
promise." 

Few  are  the  events  we  now  have  to  relate  of 
the  damsel  Dorothy.  On  Sunday,  May  28,  1727, 
she  was  received  by  her  pastor,  the  Rev.  John 
Hancock,  into  full  communion.  She  was  then 
eighteen  years  of  age,  a  time  when  sincerity  of 
soul  and  faithfulness  to  visions  of  the  ideal 
awaken  in  the  young  all  noble  aspirations  and 
moral  audacities.  The  field  for  Dorothy's  tri- 
umphs was  not  the  wide  world,  nor  "  by  the 
shores  of  old  romance,"  but  only  a  Puritan  home 
with  its  plain  duties.  It  was  enough,  however, 
for  the  display  of  her  patience  and  the  unbla- 
zoned  heroisms  of  ordinary  life.  She  was  now  the 
main  reliance  of  her  mother  in  the  multifarious 
duties  of  an  increasing  domestic  establishment. 
Her  father  was  attaining  to  higher  honors  and  a 
wider  fame,  and  a  generous  hospitality  kept  pace 
with  ampler  means. 

Indeed,  the  Quincy  mansion,  at  about  this 
time  the  most  pretentious  and  roomy  house  in 
the  town,  was  roof-tree  for  reunions  of  the  widely 
related  family ;  the  shrine  of  domestic  origins ; 
the  central  hearth,  inviting  frequent  pilgrima- 
gings  of  the  dispersed  Quincys  and  Flynts  and 
Hoars  and  Sewalls  and  Wendells  and  numerous 


206    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

others.  Then  there  were  parties  of  squires  and 
dames  on  pleasure  bent  from  Boston,  and  meet- 
ings of  grave  justices,  and  visits  of  dignified 
colonial  officials,  to  say  nothing  of  the  solemn 
gatherings  of  parish  committees  to  arrange  the 
"prudentials"  of  the  church.  To  these  things, 
ordinary  and  extraordinary,  Dorothy  gave  her 
life,  which  may  account  for  her  delay  in  giving 
her  hand  to  Edward  Jackson,  Esq.,  of  Boston. 
She  was  twenty-nine  years  of  age  when  she  was 
married  to  him  on  the  7th  day  of  December, 
1738.  From  the  old  home  in  Braintree  she  was 
removed  to  a  home  of  wealth  and  culture  in 
Boston.  Here  her  daughter  Mary  was  born, 
who  married  Judge  Oliver  Wendell  in  1762, 
whose  daughter  Sarah  married  the  Rev.  Abiel 
Holmes,  father  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 
Along  this  line  descended  the  portrait  of  Doro- 
thy, and  the  silver  teapot  of  Tutor  Flynt,  and 
the  poet. 

"  O  Damsel  Dorothy  !  Dorothy  Q.  ! 
Strange  is  the  gift  that  I  owe  to  you  ; 
Such  a  gift  as  never  a  king 
Save  to  daughter  or  son  might  hring,  — 
All  my  tenure  of  heart  and  hand, 
All  my  title  to  house  and  land  ; 
Mother  and  sister  and  child  and  wife 
And  joy  and  sorrow  and  death  and  life  ! 

"  What  if  a  hundred  years  ago 
Those  close-shut  lips  had  answered  No, 
When  forth  the  tremulous  question  came 
That  cost  the  maiden  her  Norman  name, 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   207 

And  under  the  folds  that  look  so  still 

The  hodice  swelled  with  the  hosom's  thrill  ? 

Should  I  be  I,  or  would  it  be 

One  tenth  another,  to  nine  tenths  me  ? 

"  Soft  is  the  breath  of  a  maiden's  Yes  : 
Not  the  light  gossamer  stirs  with  less  ; 
But  never  a  cable  that  holds  so  fast 
Through  all  the  battles  of  wave  and  blast, 
And  never  an  echo  of  speech  or  song 
That  lives  in  the  babbling  air  so  long  ! 
There  were  tones  in  the  voice  that  whispered  then 
You  may  hear  to-day  in  a  hundred  men. 

"  O  lady  and  lover,  how  faint  and  far 
Your  images  hover,  —  and  here  we  are, 
Solid  and  stirring  in  flesh  and  bone,  — 
Edward's  and  Dorothy's  —  all  their  own,  — 
A  goodly  record  for  Time  to  show 
Of  a  syllable  spoken  so  long  ago  !  — 
Shall  I  bless  you,  Dorothy,  or  forgive 
For  the  tender  whisper  that  bade  me  live  ? 

"  It  shall  be  a  blessing,  my  little  maid  ! 
I  will  heal  the  stab  of  the  Red-Coat's  blade, 
And  freshen  the  gold  of  the  tarnished  frame, 
And  gild  with  a  rhyme  your  household  name  ; 
So  you  shall  smile  on  us  brave  and  bright 
As  first  you  greeted  the  morning's  light, 
And  live  untroubled  by  woes  and  fears 
Through  a  second  youth  of  a  hundred  years." 

The  rest  of  her  days  Dorothy  spent  in  Boston, 
"  our  metropolis."  There  she  is  all  but  lost  to 
view  in  the  social  whirl  of  a  capital  proud  of  its 
royal  governor  and  his  court,  and  boastful  of 
its  population  numbering  twelve  thousand  im- 
portant souls.  Occasionally  she  emerges  from 
this  dazzling  sea  of  light  and  becomes  visible  as 


208    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

she  visits  her  native  Braintree  ;  but  for  the  man- 
ner of  her  life  and  the  events  of  it  we  are  left  to 
the  imagination.  She  passed  away  in  her  home 
in  Boston  in  1762.  But  of  these  dames  who 
are  more  than  queens  we  may  proclaim,  Dorothy 
is  dead  !     Long  live  Dorothy  ! 

Dorothy  IV.  is  already  on  the  throne.  "  Han- 
cock's Dorothy"  is  she, —  "King  Hancock,"  as 
the  loyalists  called  him  in  derision,  —  made  king 
now  in  reality  by  his  alliance  to  royalty.  She 
should  have  elected  to  be  born  in  Braintree,  now 
Quincy,  the  home  of  her  race,  the  place  pre- 
appointed for  the  nativity  of  the  great.  It  is 
an  oversight,  from  the  effects  of  which  Quincy 
historians  have  never  fully  recovered.  But  her 
parents,  Edmund  Quincy  and  Elizabeth  (Wen- 
dell) Quincy,  because  there  was  no  room  for 
them  in  the  mansion,  went  immediately  to  Bos- 
ton upon  their  marriage,  April  15,  1725.  Here 
they  spent  their  honeymoon  and  many  a  moon, 
no  less  romantic,  besides ;  and  so  it  perversely 
came  about  that  destiny  was  defeated  and  their 
children  first  saw  the  light  in  the  three-hilled 
town.  It  was  their  intention,  as  father  Quincy 
wrote,  "to  live  with  brother  Wendell  and  his 
wife  "  for  a  space,  and  this  intention  they  very 
likely  carried  out.  Later,  they  secured  a  home 
of  their  own  on  the  south  side  of  Summer  Street. 
Writing  of  this  residence  Miss  Eliza  Susan  Quincy 
says,  "  I  know  it  was  the  residence  of  the  elder 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   '209 

brother  of  my  great-grandfather  from  about 
1740  to  1752,"  Here  it  was,  then,  that  Han- 
cock's Dorothy  was  born,  May  10, 1747,  and  she 
was  baptized  May  17,  "  1  w.  old." 

Do  not  imagine,  however,  that  the  parents  of 
Dorothy  entirely  deserted  the  old  homestead  in 
Braintree.  They  went  back  there  for  many  de- 
lightful family  gatherings  and  some  sad  ones. 
And  when,  in  1737-38,  his  parents  suddenly 
passed  away,  Edmund  Quincy,  her  brother,  be- 
came heir  to  the  mansion  and  the  home  farm 
surrounding  it.  Affectionately  bound  was  he 
now  to  that  home  by  a  double  bond,  —  that  of 
birth  and  mastership.  He  was  deeply  engaged 
in  mercantile  enterprises  in  Boston,  but  he  could 
not  be  held  back  from  the  rural  delights  and 
the  uplifting  associations  of  the  ancient  home 
of  himself  and  his  race.  Through  those  earlier, 
prosperous  years  it  was  his  summer  home.  It 
was  the  custom  even  then  among  the  well-to-do 
to  have  their  city  and  their  country  establish- 
ments. To  Braintree  he  went  for  long,  restful 
months  amid  the  glorious  scenes  of  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  towns  on  the  shores  of  the  bay. 

Thither  flocked  at  his  invitation  merry  parties 
from  Boston,  and  we  hear  faint  echoes  of  their 
laughter  as  they  disported  themselves  al  fresco 
about  the  well-kept  grounds.  Sir  Henry  Frank- 
land,  the  romantic  and  poetic  personage  of  that 
day,  was  a  friend  of  the  family.     He,  with  his 


210     WHERE  AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN^ 

Agnes  Snrriage,  that  brilliant  brunette,  whose 
face  and  form  captivated  him  when  he  first  saw 
her,  in  rags  and  barefooted,  scrubbing  the  floor 
of  the  old  inn  in  Marblehead,  joined  in  these 
excursions.  What  gleams  of  dainty  gowns  and 
rich  vestments,  what  picturesque  groupings,  what 
drifting  of  silver-footed  nymphs,  as  of  breeze- 
blown  petals,  across  the  lawns  !  From  fine  feast- 
ing under  the  trees  they  turn  with  merry  chal- 
lenges to  the  brook  to  supply  Dame  Quincy's 
larder  with  fish  for  yet  another  feast  at  set  of 
sun. 

Some  of  this  splendor  Dorothy  saw,  and  part 
of  it  she  wras.  While  still  a  child,  not  over  five 
years  old,  the  family  removed  to  Braintree  per- 
manently. From  mercantile  ventures,  which  lat- 
terly had  proved  unfortunate,  Mr.  Quincy  turned 
to  farming.  It  was  "  gentleman  farming,"  fa- 
cilitated by  a  few  excellent  theories,  a  kind  not 
unknown  at  this  day  ;  and  in  the  extravagance 
of  it  he  was  assisted  by  Sir  Henry  Frankland, 
who  advises  him  to  "  propagate  ye  Warden  pear 
from  Cyons,"  and  by  Benjamin  Franklin,  who 
presents  him  "  a  small  pack'g  of  cuttings  of  the 
small  Rhenish  grape."  Tradition  fastens  upon 
an  ancient  pear-tree  still  flourishing,  and  upon  a 
grapevine,  improved  away  (all  but  a  single  slip) 
about  ten  years  ago,  as  growths  of  the  identical 
plants  referred  to.  The  farming  did  not  pay, 
could  not  be  made  to  retrieve  mercantile  mis- 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   211 

chances,  and  in  1756  the  estate  was  mortgaged 
to  brother-in-law  Edward  Jackson.  But  Doro- 
thy and  her  brothers  and  sisters  (there  were 
eight  of  them  all  told)  flourished  on  the  farm,  if 
nothing  else  did. 

Soon  it  dawned  upon  the  glad  eyes  of  the 
young  men  of  Braintree  and  Boston  that  Judge 
Quincy's  five  daughters  were  rarely  beautiful. 
The  fame  of  them  spread  through  all  the  coun- 
try round,  and  the  praise  of  Dorothy  was  not 
the  least  fervent.  Like  bees  to  flowers  the  beaux 
gathered  from  near  and  far.  Among  them  we 
discern  General  William  Greenleaf,  John  Adams, 
Bela  Lincoln,  Samuel  Sewall,  and  Jonathan  Sew- 
all.  Sarah  speedily  brought  General  Greenleaf 
to  her  feet,  and  Samuel  Sewall  fell  captive  to 
Elizabeth.  The  future  President  confesses  the 
power  of  Esther's  "  beauty,  vivacity  and  spirit." 
He  circles  ever  nearer  to  her,  like  moth  to  can- 
dle-light, but  flutters  away  before  he  is  scorched, 
leaving  room  for  the  advances  of  Jonathan  Sew- 
all. Communing  with  the  privacy  of  his  diary, 
John  Adams  concludes  that  Esther  is  "  pert, 
sprightly  and  gay,  but  thinks  and  reads  much 
less  than  Hannah  Quincy,"  her  cousin.  Towards 
Hannah  his  thoughts  now  turn,  and  he  grows 
very  neighborly  with  her  father,  Josiah  Quincy, 
then  living  in  the  Hancock  parsonage  across  the 
way.  Beauty  and  bookishness  !  —  dainty  teas 
and  talks  upon  Homer,  Milton,  and  Venice  Pre- 


212    WHERE    AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BE<..\\ 

served  !  —  the  combination  is  irresistible.  "She 
can  practice  the  art  of  pleasing,"  he  writes,  "  lets 
us  see  a  face  of  ridicule  and  spying,  sometimes 
inadvertently,  though  she  looks  familiarly  and 
pleasantly  for  the  most  part.  She  is  apparently 
frank  but  really  reserved  ;  seemingly  pleased  and 
almost  charmed  when  she  is  really  laughing  with 
contempt."  Coquetting  in  this  pretty  way  she 
asks  him  such  near  questions  as,  supposing  he 
had  a  wife  would  he  do  thus  and  so  ?  "  Should 
you  like  to  spend  your  evenings  at  home  read- 
ing and  conversing  with  your  wife,  rather  than 
spend  them  abroad  in  taverns  or  with  other  com- 
pany?" His  reply  in  its  fine  New  England  re- 
serve indicates  the  seriousness  of  the  situation. 
"  I  should  prefer  the  company  of  an  agreeable 
wife  to  any  other  company,  for  the  most  part, 
not  always  ;  I  should  not  like  to  be  imprisoned 
at  home."  More  intimate  they  became  when  the 
pert  Esther  and  her  sister  Susan  from  the  mansion 
"  broke  in  upon  Hannah  and  me  and  interrupted 
a  conversation  that  would  have  terminated  in  a 
courtship  that  would  have  terminated  in  a  mar- 
riage which  might  have  depressed  me  to  absolute 
poverty  and  obscurity  to  the  end  of  my  life.  .  .  . 
Now  let  me  collect  my  thoughts,"  he  heroically 
continues,  "  which  have  long  been  scattered 
among  girls,  matrimony,  hustling,  chat,  provi- 
sions, clothing.  .  .  .  Let  love  and  vanity  be  ex- 
tinguished and  the  great  passion   of  ambition, 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   213 

patriotism,  break  out  and  burn."  Alas  for  these 
heroics !  In  less  than  two  years  he  is  looking 
with  deep  interest  upon  Abigail,  the  daughter 
of  parson  Smith  of  Weymouth,  and  is  talking 
to  her  his  Homer  and  Milton  and  Venice  Pre- 
served. 

Dorothy,  an  opening  bud  in  this  blooming 
garden  of  girls,  was  now  some  thirteen  summers 
old.  Her  large  eyes,  we  may  well  believe,  were 
keenly  observant  of  all  this  sweet  commerce,  and 
her  ears  attentive  to  all  the  sprightly  talk  wafted 
around  her  on  the  melodious  element  of  youth- 
ful laughter.  When  it  was  that  she  herself  be- 
came the  object  of  the  serious  regard  of  admirers 
we  have  no  means  of  knowing.  They  were 
numerous  enough  before  John  Hancock  finally 
swept  them  to  a  proper  distance  by  his  imperial 
claims,  supported  as  they  were  by  the  vigilance 
of  his  aunt,  Madam  Lydia  Hancock.  He  was 
her  senior  by  ten  years,  —  had  graduated  from 
Harvard  and  had  been  adopted  into  the  family 
of  his  rich  uncle,  Thomas  Hancock,  in  Boston, 
before  she  had  outgrown  her  girlhood.  How- 
ever, he  would  frequently  return  to  Braintree, 
where  he  was  born,  and  could  not  fail  to  note 
the  unfolding  loveliness  of  Dorothy.  Did  he 
avow  his  affection  for  her  while  yet  the  tumult 
of  the  Revolution  was  afar  off  and  her  home 
was  in  the  old  mansion  ?  Tradition  says  "  Yes," 
and  further  avers  that  not  only  was  the  troth 


214    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

plighted  there,  but  that  all  plans  were  made  to 
celebrate  the  wedding  in  the  home  of  her  fathers. 
The  large  north  parlor  was  adorned  with  a  new 
wall  paper  express  from  Paris,  and  appropriately 
figured  with  the  forms  of  Venus  and  Cupid  in 
blue,  and  pendent  wreaths  of  flowers  in  red. 
Does  any  one  doubt  the  tradition  ?  There  on 
the  wall  hangs  the  paper  to  this  day,  unfading 
in  its  antiquity  and  mutely  confounding  the  in- 
credulous. 

But  it  was  not  destined  to  contribute  its  har- 
monious decorations  to  the  joyous  event.  Before 
the  happy  day  arrived  the  resistance  of  the 
high-spirited  colonists  to  the  oppressive  measures 
of  a  willful  kins:  and  "  his  friends  "  had  burst 
forth  in  sulphurous  flames.  There  was  the  swift, 
resolute  muster  of  a  new-born  nation,  and  the 
scene  of  it  was  chaotic  in  the  abrupt  dispersion 
of  long  established  domesticities.  Not  in  Bos- 
ton, nor  Braintree,  nor  Lexington,  nor  in  the 
tier  of  towns  behind  them  was  to  be  found  an 
abiding-place  safe  from  the  British  ;  and  so  while 
Judge  Quincy  sought  sanctuary  in  Lancaster,  in 
the  home  of  his  daughter  Mrs.  Greenleaf,  Doro- 
thy, under  the  protection  of  Madam  Hancock, 
fled  to  Fairfield,  Connecticut.  There  the  wed- 
ding was  celebrated  at  last  with  due  pomp  and 
hilarity. 

It  is  in  the  lurid  light  of  those  heroic  days 
that  Dorothy  first  comes  into  clear  view.     All 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   215 

through  the  memorable  winter  of  1774-75  we 
perceive  she  is  in  Boston,  at  the  very  heart  of 
convergent  patriotic  fervor.  A  frequent  guest 
in  the  stately  Hancock  mansion,  she  hears  Earl 
Percy's  voice  as  he  drills  the  regulars  on  the 
common  for  the  inevitable  conflict,  and  in  that 
home  and  in  her  own  she  is  in  daily  communion 
with  the  valiant  defenders  of  liberty,  —  Dr.  War- 
ren, John  Adams,  Paul  Revere,  her  cousin  Josiah 
Quincy,  Jr.,  that  Boston  Cicero,  Sam  Adams, 
and  many  another,  to  say  nothing  of  patriotic 
dames  as  numerous  and  daring.  In  the  wild 
tide  of  things  heart  answers  to  heart.  They  are 
not  to  be  subdued  by  the  aggressive  presence 
and  daily  insolence  of  the  thousands  of  British 
troops,  nor  turned  back  by  the  abyss  yawning  to 
engulf  ancient  loyalties,  loved  homes,  and  a  long 
established  peace. 

The  mansion  of  "  King  Hancock,"  in  the  early 
days  of  March,  is  subjected  to  acts  of  vandalism 
by  the  soldiery ;  its  windows  broken,  its  fences 
hewn,  its  coach  house  wrecked.  The  "  King  " 
himself,  threatened  with  arrest,  escapes  secretly 
into  the  country  to  be  at  the  second  meeting  of 
the  Provincial  Congress  at  Concord.  This  assem- 
bly  adjourns  April  15th,  and  he  finds  what  he 
conceives  to  be  a  safe  retreat  in  the  parsonage 
at  Lexington,  where  his  father  had  been  born, 
and  where  he  himself  had  spent  many  of  the 
long  bright  days  of  youth.     Here  soon  arrives 


216    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

Madam  Lydia  Hancock,  anxious  and  harassed, 
driving  out  from  the  abandoned  Boston  mansion 
in  a  coach  with  that  jealously  guarded  treasure, 
Dorothy  Quincy.  "  Citizen  "  Adams  is  there  also, 
a  welcome  guest  under  the  hospitable  roof  of 
the  Rev.  Jonas  Clark.  At  twelve  o'clock  on  the 
night  of  the  eighteenth,  said  Dorothy  in  later 
years,  Paul  Revere  gallops  up  to  the  door  with 
his  startling  cry  of  the  approach  of  General 
Gage's  troops.  The  village  takes  the  alarm,  the 
church  bell  clangs  its  wild  tocsin,  lights  flash 
in  house  after  house  far  away  into  the  distant 
darkness,  and  swiftly  the  minute-men  gather  on 
the  green.  John  Hancock,  alert  at  the  first 
summons,  flames  hot  with  the  rage  of  fight. 
Hardly  is  he  dissuaded  from  standing  with  the 
stout  farmers  and  facing  the  battalions  of  the 
regulars.  Brought  at  last  to  realize  that  it  is  he 
himself  and  Sam  Adams  that  the  British  would 
count  no  cost  too  great  to  capture,  he  allows 
himself  to  be  hurried  with  his  companion  inland 
to  the  Woburn  Precinct  (now  Burlington).  The 
ladies  remain  under  the  protection  of  the  parson. 
Within  the  shelter  of  his  well  built  home  they 
furtively  watch,  with  no  little  peril  to  them- 
selves, the  momentous  clash  of  Old  World  veter- 
ans and  homespun  colonials.  Then,  when  the 
volleying  has  died  away  and  the  regulars  are 
on  the  march  for  Concord,  Madam  Hancock  and 
Dorothy   turn   from   the  horrors  of  the  battle- 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   217 

field,  take  coach,  and  are  reunited  to  the  pa- 
triots in  Woburn. 

Not  entirely  to  Dorothy's  mind,  however,  is 
this  assumption  of  the  exclusive  custody  of  her- 
self by  the  astute  Madam  Hancock  and  her 
nephew.  She  has  a  natural  longing,  also,  to  be 
with  her  own  people.  Her  mother  was  dead, 
but  she  had  left  her  father  in  Boston  ;  and  to 
him  she  declared  she  would  return  on  the  mor- 
row. "  No,  madam,"  said  Hancock,  "  you  shall 
not  return  as  long  as  there  is  a  British  bayonet 
left  in  Boston."  "  Recollect,  Mr.  Hancock,"  re- 
torted Dorothy,  "  I  am  not  under  your  control 
yet.  I  shall  go  to  my  father  to-morrow."  And 
very  glad  she  would  have  been,  as  she  confessed 
late  in  life,  to  have  got  rid  of  him,  then  and 
there.  The  awakened  waywardness  of  a  maiden 
before  whom  the  incense  of  fine  compliments 
was  continuously  wafted  by  a  host  of  admirers 
was  with  difficulty  restrained  by  Madam  Han- 
cock, and  then  they  proceeded  on  their  retreat 
to  Fairfield.  The  course  of  this  retreat,  after 
leaving  Woburn,  is  outlined  in  a  letter  written 
from  Lancaster  by  Edmund  Quincy,  May  11,  to 
his  son  Henry.  "  I  was  from  noon  Sat'y  till 
Friday  eve'g  getting  up  hither  with  much  diffi- 
culty by  reason  of  scarcity  of  carriages.  Cost 
me  near  20  <£s,  besides  quartering  on  some  of 
my  good  friends  who  were  very  kind  and  gen- 
erous.     Y'r   sister   Dolly   with   Mrs.    Hancock 


218    WHERE   AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

came  from  Shirley  to  y'r  Bro.  Grenleeaf's  & 
dined  &  proceeded  to  Worcester,  where  Col'o 
H.  &  Mr.  A(dams)  were  on  their  way.  This 
was  10  days  before  I  got  hither,  so  that  I  missed 
seeing  them.  As  I  hear  she  proceeded  with  Mr. 
H.  to  Fayerfield,  I  don't  expect  to  see  her  till 
peaceable  times  are  restored." 

The  home  in  Fairfield  where  the  ladies  now 
took  up  their  abode  was  that  of  Thaddeus  Burr, 
Esq.,  and  it  was  not  long  after  their  arrival  that 
there  rode  into  town  the  fascinating  Aaron  Burr, 
his  nephew,  then  a  young  man  of  twenty-nine, 
in  the  full  pride  of  life.  It  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  Dorothy  in  her  present  mood,  and 
too  carefully  protected  by  duenna  Hancock, 
should  gradually  permit  herself  to  become  more 
warmly  interested  in  the  brave  bearing  and  gal- 
lant attentions  of  the  exquisite  Aaron  Burr  than 
was  entirely  compatible  with  her  relations  to 
Hancock. 

A  bit  of  local  coloring  is  thrown  upon  this 
episode  by  a  letter,  written  some  time  later,  by 
the  sprightly  Dorothy  Dudley,  of  Cambridge,  to 
her  friend  Esther  Livingston,  in  Philadelphia. 
Hancock,  then  united  to  his  Dorothy,  is  in  attend- 
ance upon  the  Continental  Congress.  "  So  you 
have  seen  Mrs.  Hancock  !  "  she  writes.  "  Is  she 
not  charming  !  One  cannot  wonder  at  Madam 
Lydia  Hancock's  fondness  for  her,  and  resolve 
to  secure  the  treasure  for  her  nephew.    You  have 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   219 

heard  how  carefully  she  guarded  her  against  the 
approach  of  any  invader  upon  Mr.  John  Hancock's 
rights.  I  visited  Lexington  the  other  day  and  trod 
the  ground  so  lately  wet  with  the  blood  of  our 
noble  minute-men  ;  went  into  Mr.  Clarke's  house, 
where  ' King;'  Hancock  and  '  Citizen '  Adams  were 
lodged  that  memorable  night  before  the  battle, 
and  walked  under  the  tree  which  I  am  told  shel- 
tered them  during  part  of  that  time  of  terror.  I 
saw  the  bullet  in  the  wall  of  the  attic  chamber 
where  the  family  were  hid  at  the  time,  and  where 
Madam  Hancock  very  narrowly  escaped  death,  a 
ball  grazing  her  cheek  as  it  passed.  After  the 
battle  Mr.  Hancock,  who  had  his  coach  and  four 
at  hand,  left  the  town,  accompanied  by  his  Aunt 
Lydia  and  Miss  Dorothy  Quincy,  and  rode  to  one 
of  the  neighboring  villages,  and  from  there  by 
slow  stage  to  Fairfield,  Connecticut.  .  .  .  Aaron 
Burr  is  a  young  man  of  fascinating  manners  and 
many  accomplishments.  He  was  much  charmed 
with  Miss  Quincy,  I  have  heard,  and  she  in  turn 
was  not  insensible  to  his  attentions  ;  but  Madam 
Hancock  kept  a  jealous  eye  upon  them  both,  and 
would  not  allow  any  advances  upon  the  part  of 
the  young  man  toward  the  prize  reserved  for  her 
nephew.  When  the  knot  was  tied  that  made 
them  one,  she  felt  at  liberty  to  breathe.  Imme- 
diately after  the  wedding  they  set  out  for  Phila- 
delphia, which  has  been  their  home  ever  since." 
The  record  of  this  notable  event  in  the  clerk's 


220    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

book  of  the  Fairfield  church  is  as  follows:  "  The 
Hon.  John  Hancock  Esqr.  and  Miss  Dorothy 
Quincy,  both  of  Boston  were  married  at  Fair- 
field, Aug.  28th,  1775." 

For  about  four  months  previous  to  the  marriage 
Dorothy  was  almost  daily  in  the  company  of  Beau 
Burr.  There  is  little  doubt  it  was  a  perilous  time 
for  the  peace  of  mind  of  John  Hancock.  That 
opulent  but  formal  gentleman  at  a  distance  was 
scarce  a  match  for  the  most  dashing  gallant  of 
his  age  insistently  present.  "  A  handsome  young 
man  of  very  pretty  fortune  "  is  the  way  Dorothy 
spoke  of  him  in  later  reminiscent  mood.  More 
lively  is  the  description  of  him  by  Dorothy  Dudley 
written  in  her  diary  when  he  had  just  arrived  in 
Cambridge  camp  from  his  Fairfield  campaign, 
Aug.  1,  1775  :  "  There  is  a  young  man  in  camp 
whom  I  have  noticed  again  and  again  as  he 
passes  the  house.  He  is  striking  in  appearance, 
though  quite  small  and  boyish.  His  eyes  are 
piercing  in  their  brightness,  and  there  is  some- 
thing winning  in  his  manner.  His  name  is  Aaron 
Burr,  a  son  of  Rev.  Aaron  Burr,  formerly  Presi- 
dent of  Princeton  College,  N.  J.,  and  grandson 
of  Rev.  Jonathan  Edwards." 

For  a  young  woman  of  Dorothy's  temperament 
here  was  a  situation  portentous  of  much,  as  Car- 
lyle  would  say.  It  may  be  written  of  her  what 
Thomas  Hardy  writes  of  one  of  his  characters : 
"  She  had  a  spirit  with  a  natural  love  of  liberty, 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   221 

and  required  the  next  thing  to  liberty,  spacious- 
ness." Was  there  promise  of  this  in  the  manner 
she  had  been  treated  of  late  as  a  captured  person, 
a  possession  ?  A  rumor  has  descended  to  these 
times  that  Madam  Hancock  feared  an  elopement. 
But  what  would  you  ?  Was  not  independence 
in  the  air  ?  And  Dorothy,  high-spirited,  way- 
ward, and  imperious,  as  the  best  of  her  sex, 
might  easily  persuade  herself  there  really  was 
a  flavor  of  abduction  in  the  swooping  way 
duenna  Hancock  fled  with  her  to  Fairfield. 
Besides,  the  habit  of  conquest  was  so  deeply 
confirmed  in  her  by  her  invincible  progress 
through  the  courtly  society  of  New  England's 
capital  that  only  the  utmost  self-restraint  could 
keep  her  from  making  a  final  and  distinguished 
triumph. 

"  Oh,  saw  ye  bonie  Lesley 

As  she  gaed  o'er  the  border  ? 
She  's  gane  like  Alexander, 

To  spread  her  conquests  farther." 

It  was  a  conspicuous  flirtation,  one  to  make 
golden  the  atmosphere  of  the  prim  homes  and 
romantic  scenes  of  the  staid  Connecticut  village ; 
and  it  was  fraught  with  the  due  measure  of  sur- 
prises. Like  gallant  ship  "  with  all  her  bravery 
on  and  tackle  trim,"  she  gracefully  sailed  the 
uncertain  seas,  met  the  enemy,  and  —  was  she 
his  ?  Hancock,  fretting  his  heart  out  at  Philadel- 
phia, receives  scant  consideration  in  these  critical 


222     WHERE  AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

days.  He  writes  to  her  frequently,  but  awakens 
no  response.  "  My  Dr.  Dolly,"  he  protests  in  a 
letter  dated  June  10th,  "  I  am  almost  prevailed 
on  to  think  that  my  letters  to  my  aunt  &  you 
are  not  read,  for  I  cannot  obtain  a  reply,  I  have 
ask'd  million  questions  &  not  an  answer  to  one,  I 
beg'd  you  to  let  me  know  what  things  my  Aunt 
wanted  &  you,  and  many  other  matters  I  wanted 
to  know,  but  not  one  word  in  answer.  I  Really 
Take  it  extreme  unkind,  pray  my  Dr.  use  not  so 
much  Ceremony  &  Reservedness,  why  can't  you 
use  freedom  in  writing,  be  not  afraid  of  me,  I 
want  long  Letters  ...  &  I  Beg,  my  Dear  Dolly, 
you  will  write  me  often  &  long  Letters,  I  will 
forgive  the  past  if  you  will  mend  in  future.  Do 
ask  my  Aunt  to  make  up  &  send  me  a  Watch 
String,  &  do  you  make  up  another  &  send  me,  I 
wear  them  out  fast.  I  want  some  little  thing  of 
your  doing."  ..."  Adieu  my  Dr.  Girl,"  he 
concludes,  "  and  believe  me  to  be  with  great 
Esteem  &  Affection.  Yours  without  Reserve, 
John  Hancock." 

It  was  a  deplorable  dissonance,  virtuously  we 
say  it,  the  while  a  vagrant  sentiment  persuasively 
hints  it  was  all  so  natural,  so  inevitable,  so  pretty, 
as  to  seem  a  subtly  woven  note  in  a  preexistent 
harmony.  Slide  it  might  not,  however,  into  a 
pitch  so  strident  as  to  shake  down  with  its  vibra- 
tions a  single  pillar  in  the  temple  sacred  to  the  af- 
fections of  the  troth-plighted  couple.    Capricious 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   223 

Dorothy,  the  essential  loyalties  of  her  nature  un- 
touched, turned  with  glad  abandon  to  the  altar 
where  the  steady  flame  of  heart-felt  and  heaven- 
born  love  burned  clear.  The  music  and  mirth  of 
the  marriage-day  submerged  and  swept  away  all 
alien  elements,  and  blithe  was  that  midsummer 
progress  through  a  sympathetic  land  to  the  tem- 
porary home  in  Philadelphia.  What  luminous 
glimpses  we  catch  of  their  joy  in  one  another,  and 
of  their  happy,  patriotic  toil  in  those  tumultuous 
days  !  Fortunate  were  they  to  whom  it  was  given 
to  see  the  beautiful  Dorothy  presiding  with  inborn 
grace  and  dignity  as  the  mistress  of  the  establish- 
ment of  John  Hancock,  president  of  the  Continen- 
tal Congress.  Then,  when  they  returned  to  the 
stately  Hancock  mansion  in  Boston,  what  gener- 
ous hospitality  they  dispensed  !  For  the  honor 
of  the  town  in  its  poverty  they  kept  open  house, 
feasting  the  officers  of  the  French  fleet  forty  at 
a  time,  welcoming  them  and  their  crews  with  un- 
failing cheer,  when,  in  mischievous  spirit,  they 
mob  in  a  multitude  the  mansion,  and  the  "  com- 
mon is  bedizzened  with  lace."  Washington, 
Lafayette,  John  Adams,  Lords  Stanley  and  Wort- 
ley,  and  other  notables  not  a  few,  are  received 
royally,  and  the  finest  part  of  their  entertainment 
is  ever  the  sight  of  the  face  and  the  form  of 
their  hostess. 

"  When  in  the  chronicle  of  the  wasted  time 
I  see  description  of  the  fairest  wights 


224    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

And  beauty  making  beautiful  old  rhyme, 
In  praise  of  ladies  dead  and  lovely  knights; 

Then,  in  the  blazon  of  sweet  beauty's  best, 
Of  hand,  of  foot,  of  lip,  of  eye,  of  brow, 

I  see  their  antique  pen  would  have  expressed 
Even  such  a  beauty  as  you  master  now." 

For  eighteen  years  they  lived  thus  together. 
Two  children  were  born  to  them,  and,  to  their 
unspeakable  grief,  early  passed  away.  On  Octo- 
ber 8,  1793,  John  Hancock  himself  died.  His 
widow  remained  single  for  three  years,  and  then 
was  married  to  James  Scott,  a  trusty  sea  captain, 
who  had  long  sailed  the  ships  of  Hancock.  The 
romance  of  her  life  was  ended,  but  in  happiness 
and  content  she  spent  the  rest  of  her  days. 
"  She  outlived  her  second  husband  many  years," 
writes  A.  E.  Brown  in  "John  Hancock,  His 
Book,"  resided  for  a  time  at  Portsmouth,  N.  H., 
and  later  in  Federal  Street,  Boston.  As  Madam 
Scott  she  delighted  the  people  by  her  unfailing 
memory  of  the  heroic  past  and  brilliant  powers  of 
conversation.  Hospitality  was  a  characteristic  of 
hers  at  her  Federal  Street  home.  Her  table  was 
always  laid  with  an  extra  plate  for  any  one  who 
might  call,  and  fourscore  years  did  not  rob  her 
of  her  native  dignity.  Says  Mrs.  William  Wales : 
"  I  often  ran  into  Aunt  Dorothy's  from  school 
at  noon  intermission,  when  the  extra  plate  was  at 
my  service,  and  the  venerable  woman  ready  to 
greet  me  with  a  smile."  On  the  3d  day  of 
February,  1830,  the  gift  of  God,  Dorothea,  was 
returned  to  Him. 


DOROTHY    HANO  M  k 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   225 

The  throne  occupied  in  such  queenly  manner 
by  Dorothy  Hancock  remained  vacant  after  her 
death.  There  were  other  Dorothys,  but  none 
sufficiently  eminent  to  be  her  successor  and  com- 
mand such  universal  homage.  The  Dorothy  Q. 
who  was  born  to  Henry  Quincy  and  Eunice 
Newell,  his  second  wife,  in  1775,  was  an  excel- 
lent lady,  and  the  ancestor  of  some  of  the  most 
highly  regarded  families  in  New  England.  The 
record  of  her  birth  made  by  her  father,  who,  in 
the  first  year  of  the  Revolution  fled  from  his 
home,  corner  of  Winter  and  Washington  streets, 
Boston,  to  Providence,  R.  I.,  is  interesting. 
"  Sept.  /75,  28th.  This  day  at  two  o'clock  God 
in  his  Providence  was  pleased  to  Grant  Deliver- 
ance to  my  wife  of  a  Daughter  which  was  Christ- 
ened at  the  Presbetery  Meeting  House  in  Provi- 
dence and  Christened  by  the  Rev.  M.  Lathrop  by 
the  name  of  Dorothy  in  memory  of  sister  Dorothy 
Hancock." 

This  Henry  Quincy,  who  was  some  twenty 
years  older  than  his  sister  Dorothy,  was  called 
the  handsomest  man  in  Boston  when  he  married 
his  first  wife,  Mary  Salter.  By  her  he  had  a 
daughter  Mary,  who  married  Dr.  John  Stedman 
in  1773,  and  after  his  death  for  second  husband 
William  Donnison.  Descendants  of  their  chil- 
dren are  living  and  honored  to-day.  The  Dorothy 
of  Henry's  second  marriage  also  had  a  second 
husband,  Jabez  Bullard,  the  ancestor  of  the  Bui- 


226     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

lards  and  the  Doggetts,  and  so  a  connection  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Caleb  Davis  Bradlee,  whose  long 
and  useful  career  in  Boston  is  fresh  in  the  mem- 
ory of  its  citizens. 

Still  another  "Dorothy  Q."  remains  to  be  men- 
tioned, for  the  very  important  reason  that  she 
elicited  from  Dr.  Holmes  a  second  "Dorothy  Q." 
poem.  The  sister  of  the  poet,  Mrs.  Upham  of 
Salem,  had  a  son  who  was  named  Oliver  Wen- 
dell Holmes.  He  in  turn  became  the  father  of  a 
little  girl  whom  he  named  after  the  heroine  of  the 
portrait.  Dr.  Holmes,  when  made  aware  of  this, 
wrote  the  following  verses  :  — 

"  Dear  little  Dorothy,  Dorothy  Q., 
What  can  I  find  to  write  to  you  ? 
You  have  two  U's  in  your  name,  it 's  true, 
And  mine  is  adorned  with  a  double  U. 
But  there  's  this  difference  in  the  U's, 
That  one  you  will  stand  a  chance  to  lose 
When  a  happy  man  of  the  bearded  sex 
Shall  make  it  Dorothy  Q.  -\-  X. 

"  May  Heaven  smile  bright  on  the  blissful  day 
That  teaches  this  lesson  in  Algebra ! 
When  the  orange  blossoms  crown  your  head, 
Then  read  what  your  old  great-uncle  said, 
And  remember  how  in  your  baby-time 
He  scribbled  a  scrap  of  idle  rhyme  — 
Idle  it  may  be  —  but  kindly  too, 
For  the  little  lady,  —  Dorothy  Q.  !  " 

And  still  the  name  is  perpetuated,  and  still  the 
line  it  adorns  stretches  out  as  if  to  make  conquest 
of  a  dateless  future.    There  is  a  "  Dorothy  Q."  of 


"DOROTHY   Q."   OF   TO-DAY 


DOROTHY  Q.  AND  OTHER  DOROTHYS   227 

to-day.  She  inherits  directly  from  the  ancestors 
of  all  the  Dorothys,  and  herself  bears  the  name  in 
its  original  simplicity.  A  daughter  of  the  late 
Dr.  Henry  Parker  Quincy  of  Dedham,  her  ascent 
is  through  Edmunds  and  Josiahs  to  the  Judge 
Quincy  who  was  the  father  of  Dr.  Holmes's 
"  Dorothy  Q.,"  and  so  back  to  the  beginnings  of 
her  race  in  a  mingling  of  worthy  progenitors. 
Through  her  mother,  also,  Mary  Adams  Quincy, 
she  is  heiress  to  the  sterling  virtues  of  that  kin- 
dred line. 

Thus  the  name  fails  not,  nor  can  the  qualities 
which  have  exalted  the  fame  of  it  fail.  In  pre- 
sent power,  as  well  as  remembered  puissance, 
"  Dorothy  Q."  reigns.     Long  live  Dorothy  ! 


TUTOR    FLYNT,    NEW    ENGLAND  S    EARLIEST 
HUMORIST 

Facetious  was  rare  old  Tutor  Flynt ;  scholarly 
and  shrewdly  practical,  too,  but  above  all  a  wit, 
a  humorist.  So  was  he  regarded  by  his  contem- 
poraries, and  so  has  he  been  esteemed  by  every 
generation  since.  He  is,  in  fact,  the  first  among 
grave  New  England  men  with  enough  genial 
humor  in  him  to  become  famous.  Others  of  his 
day,  and  earlier,  gleamed  now  and  then,  as  sheet 
lightning  through  sombre  clouds,  with  a  certain 
grim  jocularity ;  and  not  a  few,  as  Samuel  Sewall, 
Captain  Underhill,  and  Cotton  Mather,  were  at 
times  unconsciously  and  irresistibly  funny.  But 
the  Tutor,  in  the  humane  fibre  of  him,  was  by 
happy  foreordination  and  deliberate  personal 
intention  a  humorist.  He  had  in  him  enough 
natural  vivacity,  not  infrequently  explosive,  to 
temper  or  astound  the  austerity  and  solemnity  of 
a  century  of  the  primal  Puritanism  of  Massachu- 
setts Bay  Colony.  Indeed,  his  repartees  and 
brusquerie  comprised  about  all  of  the  salt  current 
in  the  small  talk  of  his  time.  Was  it  not  the 
fame  of  the  Tutor,  as  much  as  anything  else, 


TUTOR   FLYNT  229 

which  drew  Harvard  men  with  eager  anticipation 
to  Commencement  and  other  college  functions  ? 
Certainly  it  is  hard  to  see  in  the  endless  preaching 
of  those  occasions,  to  say  nothing  of  "  three-mile 
prayers  an'  half-mile  graces,"  sufficient  to  compete 
with  Father  Flynt's  "  latest."  And  to-day  among 
those  conversant  with  New  England  traditions  a 
smile  is  awakened  whenever  his  name  is  men- 
tioned, and  a  pleasant  reminiscence  or  two  speeds 
to  the  tip  of  the  tongue,  craving  to  utter  itself. 

Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  had  a  deep  appre- 
ciation of  the  Tutor,  and  was  frequently  referred 
to  as  the  depositary  of  all  that  is  worth  telling 
about  him.  Some  who  should  know  think  he 
wrote  a  poem  in  honor  of  the  cheerful  old  gentle- 
man. If  such  be  extant,  the  writer  has  failed  to 
find  it.  Possibly  it  may  be  the  one  he  wrote  "  in 
wondrous  merry  mood,"  which  tickled  its  readers 
into  such  cachinnatory  convulsions  as  induced 
the  confession,  — 

"  And  since,  I  never  dare  to  write 
As  funny  as  I  can." 

Dr.  Holmes  and  the  Tutor  were  distantly  con- 
nected, — "  cousins  in  the  fourth  remove,"  as 
Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie  said  of  his  relationship  to 
Rob  Roy.  How  consonant  with  optimistic  views 
of  heredity  it  would  be  to  think  of  our  loved 
poet  as  in  "  the  line  of  conveyance  "  from  that 
old-time  wit  to  the  Professor  at  the  Breakfast- 


230    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

Table  !  How  agreeable  it  would  be  to  trace  in 
liis  genial  humor,  in  his  swift,  searchlight  expo- 
sure of  lurking  incongruities,  the  exuberant  wit 
of  his  Puritan  predecessor  in  lambent  refinement ! 
But  we  are  not  permitted  to  delight  ourselves 
in  so  notable  an  example  of  the  transmission  and 
evolution  of  genius.  Tutor  Henry  Flynt  died  a 
bachelor.  What  was  directly  and  indubitably 
transmitted  was  of  a  less  personal  character.  A 
silver  teapot  is  the  priceless  heirloom  which  Dr. 
Holmes  received  from  the  hands  of  his  distant 
connection.  Perhaps  he  fell  heir  to  other  articles 
of  value  ;  but  this  he  regarded  as  of  surpassing 
worth.  He  thus  fondly  refers  to  it  when  pre- 
sented with  a  loving  cup  by  Harvard  students  in 
his  later  days  :  — 

"  This  gift  of  priceless  value  to  me  and  to 
those  who  come  after  me  will  meet  another  and 
similar  one  of  ancient  date  which  has  come  down 
to  me  as  an  heirloom  in  the  fifth  generation 
from  its  original  owner.  The  silver  teapot  which 
serves  the  temperate  needs  of  my  noontide  refec- 
tion has  engraved  upon  it,  for  armorial  bearings, 
three  nodules,  supposed  to  represent  the  mineral 
suggesting  the  name  of  the  recipient,  the  three 
words,  Ex  Dono  Pupillorum,  and  the  date,  1738. 
This  piece  of  silver  was  given  by  his  Harvard 
College  pupils  to  the  famous  tutor,  Henry  Flynt, 
whose  term  of  service,  fifty-five  years,  is  the  longest 
on  the  college  record.    Tutor  Flynt  was  a  bache- 


TUTOR    FLYXT 


TUTOR  FLYNT  231 

lor,  and  this  memorial  gift  passed  after  his  death 
to  his  niece,  Dorothy  Quincy,  who  did  me  the 
high  honor  of  becoming  my  great-grandmother. 
Through  her  daughter  and  her  daughter's  daugh- 
ter it  came  down  to  me,  and  has  always  been  held 
by  me  as  the  most  loved  and  venerated  relic  which 
time  has  bequeathed  me.  It  will  never  lose  its 
hold  on  my  affections,  for  it  is  a  part  of  my  ear- 
liest associations  and  dearest  remembrances." 

It  is  to  President  John  Adams,  however,  that 
we  are  chiefly  indebted  for  the  preservation  of 
the  most  interesting  foibles  and  witticisms  of 
Henry  Flynt.  He,  too,  was  taken  with  the 
surprising  contrasts  exhibited  by  this  mellow 
phenomenon  among  the  hard  and  grim  "meeting- 
going  animals  "  of  the  Puritan  settlement.  In  a 
sense  they  were  neighbors  or  fellow  townsmen. 
John  Adams  was  twenty-five  years  old  when  the 
Tutor  died,  and  as  a  boy  he  must  have  heard  him 
preach  his  occasional  sermon  in  the  old  Braintree 
meeting-house,  and,  as  a  young  man,  have  seen 
him  in  his  study  in  the  old  Quincy  mansion.  No 
one,  indeed,  was  more  talked  about  in  the  quiet 
country  village,  then  nourishing  "  the  mighty 
heart "  of  the  masterful  advocate  of  independ- 
ence, than  old  Father  Flynt.  Many  a  dull  hour 
between  sermons  of  a  Sunday,  or  of  a  week  day 
at  the  tavern,  or  by  the  home  hearthstone,  was 
pleasantly  whiled  away  by  tales,  more  than  twice 
told,  of  his  quaint  ways  and  words ;  and  when  his 


232     WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

familiar  figure  was  descried  on  horseback,  or  in 
the  old  calash,  approaching  along  the  country 
road  on  his  journey  from  Cambridge,  a  ripple  of 
interest  ran  through  the  town. 

How  was  it,  may  be  the  natural  inquiry,  that 
Tutor  Flynt  came  to  have  a  second  home,  or 
study,  or  retreat,  so  far  away  from  the  shades  of 
Harvard  ?  His  sister  Dorothy  was  the  wife  of 
Judge  Edmund  Quincy,  then  owner  and  occu- 
pant of  the  Quincy  mansion  in  Braintree.  Be- 
sides, the  north  precinct  of  old  Braintree  (now 
Quincy)  was  the  seat  of  his  ancestors,  almost 
from  its  first  settlement,  and  away  back  he  was 
related  to  the  Quincys.  The  Tutor's  grand- 
parents were  Teacher  Henry  Flynt  of  the  old 
Braintree  (now  Quincy)  First  Church  and  Mar- 
gery, his  wife.  This  Margery  was  sister  to  Joanna 
Hoar,  who  married  Colonel  Edmund  Quincy,  son 
of  the  Edmund  who,  first  of  the  Quincy  name, 
came  to  these  shores.  So  it  will  be  seen  he  was 
among  his  own  kith  and  kin.  His  father,  Josiah 
Flynt,  born  in  Braintree,  was  settled  as  minister 
over  the  First  Church  in  Dorchester,  December  27, 
1671,  and  took  to  wife  Esther,  daughter  of  Cap- 
tain Thomas  Willet,  first  mayor  of  the  city  of 
New  York.  Their  first  child  was  Henry,  the 
subject  of  this  sketch,  who  was  born  May  5, 1675. 
He  graduated  at  Harvard  in  1693,  and  in  1705 
began  his  surpassing  career  as  permanent  tutor 
in  the  college. 


TUTOR   FLYNT  233 

Whatever  attractions  his  birthplace,  Dorchester, 
may  have  had  for  him,  they  were  swept  away  by 
the  current  of  memory  and  affections  which  drew 
him  to  old  Braintree.  Dorothy  was  his  only 
living  sister,  and  their  relations  appear  to  have 
been  tender  and  mutually  helpful.  It  was  prob- 
ably not  long*  after  her  marriage  to  Edmund 
Quincy,  in  1701,  that  there  was  built  for  her 
brother  a  two-story  lean-to  on  the  north  side  of 
the  mansion,  containing  a  study  and  a  chamber. 
Here  he  long  continued  to  have  occasional  resi- 
dence, and  found  the  only  real  home  he  ever 
knew  in  maturer  years.  The  rooms  overlook  the 
brook,  and  into  them  steal  the  pleasant  sounds 
of  the  falling  waters, — a  soothing  melody  to  lull 
to  sleep  by  night,  a  liquid  monotone  to  deepen 
meditation  by  day.  And  the  immemorial  willows, 
"  huge  trees,  a  thousand  rings  of  spring  in 
every  bole,"  line  the  farther  banks,  sifting  the 
golden  sunlight  into  luminous  green  shade.  Ah, 
it  is  a  retreat  for  the  repose  of  the  spirit !  And 
for  this  purpose  was  it  used,  says  tradition,  by  the 
teacher  and  scholar,  wearied  with  his  unvarying 
tasks  and  rebelling  against  the  baiting  of  the 
unlicked  cubs  of  the  college  and  the  stupid  con- 
troversies of  that  dull  age.  The  study  is  on  the 
ground  floor,  and  has  its  own  separate  entrance, 
so  that  he  might  go  in  and  out  without  disturb- 
ing the  other  inmates  of  the  mansion.  With  its 
open  fireplace,  its  undisturbed  quiet,  its  book- 


234    WHERE  AiMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

shelves  within  easy  reach,  it  is  a  place  to  grow 
wise  in.  A  steep  flight  of  winding  stairs  leads 
to  the  chamber  directly  overhead.  Indeed,  it  was 
just  the  retired  and  separate  establishment  to  suit 
a  whimsical  and  scholarly  old  bachelor. 

From  these  pleasant  precincts  he  vanished  more 
than  a  century  and  a  half  ago  ;  but  visible  traces 
of  him  are  still  there  on  the  floor  of  the  little  study. 
A  slight  depression  from  wall  to  wall  was  worn, 
it  is  said,  by  the  ceaseless  tread  of  his  feet  as  he 
paced  forward  and  back  again  in  black,  restless 
mood.  As  in  many  another  humorist,  a  deep,  irre- 
pressible element  of  melancholy  mingled  withthe 
lighter  vein.  "  I  fell  into  a  hypocondial  disorder," 
he  wrote  in  his  diary.  Dark  weather  and  much 
company  and  talk  often  predisposed  to  this,  as 
did  more  effectually  threatened  blindness.  "  God 
hath  been  pleased  to  deprive  me  of  the  sight  of 
one  of  my  eyes,"  he  wrote  in  1719 ;  and  later  on 
he  writes  as  if  the  disorder  were  confirmed  and 
chronic.  He  is  suspicious  also  that  much  smok- 
ing may  induce  his  melancholy  turns,  and  ground 
is  not  wanting  for  the  suspicion.  "  I  believe," 
he  writes  in  1714,  "  I  have  been  of  late  hurt  by 
much  Smoaking  Tobacco,  two  pipes  in  forenoon 
&  2  or  3  in  afternoon  &  4  or  5  at  night.  This 
were  surely  noxious  to  melancholy  and  erring 
bodily.  Moderation  in  this  and  moderate  exer- 
cise are  necessary  for  me.  I  shall  not  be  suffi- 
ciently moderate  in  smoak  unless  I  wholly  omit 


TUTOR   FLYNT  235 

it  in  forenoon."  With  such  a  habit,  it  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at  that  sister  Quincy  fell  in  with 
the  idea  of  a  separate  establishment  all  to  him- 
self. The  only  wonder  is  that  she  permitted  the 
cutting  of  doorways  from  both  chamber  and 
study,  giving  entrance  to  the  main  house.  But  she 
had  deep  sisterly  affection  for  her  erratic  brother, 
and  abated  nothing  in  her  care  of  him.  In  his 
distressful  times  he  drinks  "  a  portion  of  a  sutle 
Physick  "  of  her  compounding,  and  quaffs  fre- 
quent libations  of  "good  cider"  from  the  presses 
of  brother  Edmund.  His  habiliments  also  have 
the  benefit  of  her  supervision.  For  a  coat  he 
"  had  10  yds.  of  Camblet  of  Sister  Quincy  at  5 
sh.  per  yard."  It  was  no  small  contract  to  keep 
a  confirmed  bachelor  and  smoker  up  to  the  cler- 
ical standard,  and  so  the  daughter  of  "  Bishop  " 
Hancock  of  Lexington  was  invited  to  take  a 
hand  in  fulfilling  it  whenever  she  could  capture 
him  at  his  college  residence  or  in  clerical  meet- 
ings at  her  father's  house.  Perhaps  a  vague 
hope  was  entertained  in  the  Quincy  domicile  and 
beneath  the  "  Bishop's  "  roof  that  the  helpless 
bachelor  was  fair  game  and  might  be  led  into 
perpetual  captivity.  Here  is  a  sample  of  items 
scattered  through  his  diary :  "  Paid  Mr.  Han- 
cock's Daughter  1  sh.  for  new  ristbanding  three 
shirts  ;  "  "  Paid  Mr.  Hancock's  daughter  2  sh. 
G  d.  for  making  three  neckcl.  &  necks  ;  6  d.  for 
the  neckcloaths  made  out  of  old  ones  &  4  d.  for 


236     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

the  necks."  It  was  about  this  time  that  the 
brother  of  Miss  Hancock  became  the  pastor  of 
the  Braintree  church,  and  a  frequent  visitor,  of 
course,  at  the  Quincy  mansion.  Before  taking 
leave  of  their  domestic  economies,  it  is  but  fair 
to  state  that  the  Tutor  was  not  ungrateful  for 
benefits  received.  From  his  abundant  means, 
thriftily  hoarded,  he  now  and  then  loaned  brother 
Edmund  good  sums  of  money;  and  we  come  upon 
such  records  as  this  :  "  1722  mem.  I  gave  sister 
Quincey  10  sh.  or  10  sh.  6  d.  to  buy  Plates  Tea  dishes 

6  Saucers.    She  bought  only  plates  &  Tea  dishes, 

7  sh.  so  that  3  sh.  is  now  due  to  me.  The  saucers 
being  returned  I  bought  again."  Was  he  deter- 
mined she  should  have  all  the  dishes  she  wanted, 
even  if  she  felt  she  could  n't  afford  them  ? 

When  Henry  Flynt  began  his  career,  he  was 
counted  one  of  the  most  promising  scholars  in 
the  colony.  He  seems,  however,  to  have  held  in 
slight  regard  the  few  black-coat  prizes  of  his  day. 
In  1718  he  was  invited  "  to  become  Rector  of 
the  newly  named  Yale  College."  He  preferred 
his  tutorship,  and  according  to  all  accounts  he 
most  faithfully  performed  its  duties.  His  teach- 
ing abilities  were  of  a  high  order,  and  his  sound 
judgment  was  much  depended  upon  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  affairs  of  the  college  ;  but  he 
fairly  wore  out  the  patience  of  the  authorities 
before  he  gave  up,  at  the  age  of  seventy-nine. 
Promptly  upon   his  resignation,  the   governing 


TUTOR  FLYNT  237 

board  voted  "  that  no  person  chosen  hencefor- 
ward into  the  office  of  tutor  shall  abide  therein 
more  than  eight  years." 

Why  was  it  that  what  President  Quincy  called 
"  the  inconvenient  experiment  of  a  tutor  seventy- 
nine  years  of  age  "  was  tolerated  so  long  ?  It 
was  because  the  Tutor  had  himself  become  an 
institution.  For  how  many  years  had  he  been 
the  marked  man  of  the  college,  the  embodiment 
of  its  use  and  wont,  the  one  fixed  element  in  the 
flow  of  generations,  the  genial  source  of  original 
wit,  the  natural  recipient  of  the  exuberant  greet- 
ings of  returning  alumni,  not  forgetful  of  his 
good-easy  advocacy  of  their  delinquencies  as 
"  wild  colts  that  might  make  good  horses ! " 
Who  else  among  the  tutors  and  professors  was 
honored  as  he,  not  only  with  gift  of  silver  teapot, 
but  with  other  argent  utensil  borne  in  hilarious 
procession  by  the  undergraduates  on  a  memorable 
Commencement  day  !  Yet  withal  he  was  full 
of  learning,  diligent  in  business,  and  a  moving 
preacher,  "  with  a  most  becoming  seriousness  and 
gravity  peculiar  to  him." 

In  a  story  which  he  tells  of  himself,  he  reveals 
what  manner  of  man  he  was  and  the  secret  of  his 
hold  upon  his  pupils.  At  the  same  time  a  glimpse 
is  afforded  of  the  way  instruction  was  imparted 
in  his  day.  "  One  morning  my  class  were  recit- 
ing, and  stood  quite  around  me,  and  one  or  two 
rather  at  my  back,  where  was  a  table  on  which 


238    WHERE  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

lay  a  keg  of  wine  I  had  the  day  before  bought 
at  Boston  ;  and  one  of  the  blades  took  up  the 
keg  and  drank  out  of  the  bung.  A  looking 
glass  was  right  before  me,  so  that  I  could  plainly 
see  what  was  doing  behind  me.  I  thought  I 
would  not  disturb  him  while  drinking;  but  as 
soon  as  he  had  done  I  turned  round  and  told 
him  he  ought  to  have  had  the  manners  to  have 
drunk  to  somebody." 

His  mild  and  practical  temperament  influenced 
his  theology,  an  effect  more  apparent  it  may  be 
in  his  familiar  talk  than  in  his  public  preaching. 
In  his  printed  sermons  (sold  by  S.  Kneeland  and 
T.  Green  in  Queen  Street,  Boston,  1739),  one 
may  perchance  find  an  entirely  modern  sentence 
like  this  :  "  God  having  made  man  a  rational 
Creature,  he  treats  him  as  such  ;  He  requires 
nothing  of  him  but  what  is  agreeable  to  his 
nature,  and  conducive  to  his  happiness."  But 
for  the  most  part  he  proses  monotonously  on 
with  the  droning  clericals  of  that  day,  who  never 
dreamed  of  imitating  their  Maker  and  treating 
man  as  a  rational  creature.  It  was  the  ice  age 
in  New  England's  religious  history,  as  Charles  F. 
Adams,  the  younger,  so  emphatically  reiterates  ; 
an  edelweiss  at  the  foot  of  the  retreating  glacier 
is  the  blossom  or  two  we  discover  in  the  writings 
of  the  Tutor.  Hardly  anywhere  else  is  there 
visible  new  thought  vital  enough  to  force  its  way 
through  the  frozen  crust.     His  was  a  soul  pro- 


TUTOR   FLYNT  239 

phetic  of  the  age  to  come,  —  his  tolerant  temper 
perhaps,  even  more  than  his  ideas,  in  advance  o£ 
his  time.  In  this  regard  he  was  alone,  alone ! 
His  resort  was  to  practical  topics  and  to  silence. 
Sometimes  it  appears  as  if  his  brusque  wit  were 
flung  out  as  a  line  of  defense  to  mask  opinions 
which  would  imperil  him.  Heresy  ran  in  his 
blood.  He  came  of  heterodox  stock.  His  grand- 
father, settled  with  Pastor  Thompson  over  the 
old  Braintree  church,  was  for  a  period  under 
condemnation  for  his  support  of  the  Antinomian 
heresy  ;  and  his  father  was  charged  with  "  utter- 
ing divers  dangerous  heterodoxies,  delivered,  and 
that  without  caution,  in  his  public  preaching." 
The  family  trait  persisted  in  the  Tutor ;  but  he 
had  learned  to  envelop  in  it  that  element  of 
caution  which  his  father  lacked,  restrained  him- 
self to  be  silent,  and  lived  much  within  him- 
self. Still  he  did  not  escape.  His  very  aloof- 
ness was  suspicious.  When  in  his  earlier  days 
a  parish  was  minded  to  call  him,  objection  was 
made  that  he  was  not  sound.  All  the  reply  he 
vouchsafed  was,  "  I  thank  God  they  know  no- 
thing about  it." 

What  other  resort  than  to  remain  silent  had  a 
rational  creature  in  those  days,  when  stupidity 
was  cultivated  by  artificial  selection  !  It  was  a 
mark  of  his  sanity  and  genuine  soundness.  The 
arch-stupid,  as  Carlyle  often  vociferated,  is  after 
all  your  true  arch-enemy  of  human  weal  and  pro- 


210     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

gress.  Argument  has  no  effect  upon  him,  facts 
lose  their  potency  in  his  presence.  Ridicule  and 
wit  alone  penetrate  this  primordial  pachyderm, 
and  then  only  to  irritate  and  arouse  to  bestial  rage. 
Confronted  by  it,  here  is  the  attitude  adopted  by 
the  Tutor,  as  described  in  his  own  handwriting : 
"  In  this  controversy  keep  Charity  &  Justice. 
Keep  silence,  even  when  you  shall  beforehand 
conclude  yourself  called  to  speak."  What  con- 
troversy was  in  his  mind  we  have  no  means  of 
knowing.  The  people  of  that  day,  after  the  de- 
feat of  Sir  Harry  Vane  and  the  cruel  banishment 
of  other  high-thinking  "  Antinomians,"  were  sub- 
merged in  a  sea  of  theological  futilities.  Judge 
Sewall,  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  liberal-minded 
persons  then  in  the  colony,  lets  us  into  a  know- 
ledge of  them  in  taking  our  Tutor  to  task  for 
saying  "  Saint  Luke  and  Saint  James,  etc."  when 
reading  or  quoting  Scripture.  "  I  have  heard  it 
from  several,"  declares  the  judge,  "  but  to  hear 
it  from  the  Senior  Fellow  of  Harvard  College  is 
more  surprising,  lest  by  his  example  he  should 
seem  to  countenance  and  authorize  Inconvenient 
Immoralities."  That  last  phrase  is  good  :  "  In- 
convenient Immoralities "  does  so  magnify  the 
trifle  in  debate  !  Not  content  with  writing 
him,  the  judge  lies  in  wait  for  the  Tutor  and 
captures  him  in  Boston  after  the  Thursday  lec- 
ture. Home  he  must  go  to  the  judge's  dinner, 
and  there  they  have  it  out.     This  is  the  record 


TUTOR  FLYNT  241 

left  by  the  judge  :  "  He  argued  that  saying  Saint 
Luke  was  an  indifferent  thing  ;  and  't  was  com- 
monly used  ;  and  therefore  he  might  use  it.  Mr. 
Brattle  used  it.  I  argued  that  't  was  not  Scrip- 
tural;  that  'twas  absurd  and  partial  to  Saint 
Matthew,  &c,  and  not  to  Saint  Moses,  Saint 
Samuel,  &c.  And  if  we  said  Saint  we  must  go 
through  and  keep  the  Holy  days  appointed  for 
them,  and  turned  to  the  order  in  the  Common 
Prayer  Book."  Wise  Mr.  Flynt,  not  to  care  for 
any  of  these  things  !  "  Religion  in  the  substance 
of  it,"  declared  a  contemporary,  Dr.  Appleton,  of 
the  First  Church,  Cambridge,  "  seemed  always 
to  be  near  his  heart ;  and  whilst  he  had  a  very 
catholic  spirit,  not  laying  that  stress  upon  dis- 
tinguishing forms  and  modes  of  worship,  .  .  . 
he  laid  great  stress  upon  the  substantial  parts  of 
religion,  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law  and 
gospel,  such  as  judgment,  mercy,  faith,  and  the 
love  of  God."  Exquisite  for  point  and  for  rebuke 
of  intolerance  was  his  prompt  repartee  in  a  com- 
pany of  gentlemen  where  Whitefield,  the  revival- 
ist, was  leading  the  conversation.  "  It  is  my 
opinion,"  said  Whitefield,  "  that  Dr.  Tillotson  is 
now  in  hell  for  his  heresy."  "  It  is  my  opinion," 
retorted  Tutor  Flynt,  "  that  you  will  not  meet 
him  there." 

His  humor  seems  to  have  been  of  the  explosive 
sort  described  by  Dr.  Johnson,  "  something  which 
comes  upon  a  man  by  fits,  which  he  can  neither 


212     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

command  nor  restrain,  and  which  is  not  perfectly 
consistent  with  true  politeness."  But  it  had  point, 
and  that  saved  him  from  suppression  when  impo- 
lite, as  in  his  retort  upon  Whitefield,  and  from 
oppression  when  indifferent  to  accepted  creeds. 
The  streaming  character  of  his  wit,  to  use  a  phrase 
of  Emerson's,  also  floated  him,  kept  him  "  in  the 
swim,"  when  by  a  highly  proper  and  discriminat- 
ing social  instinct  he  was  doomed  to  stranding 
and  entire  isolation  for  eccentric  persistence  in 
the  state  of  "  single  blessedness."  The  measure 
of  this  handicap,  which  his  ruling  genius  had  to 
overcome,  may  be  gathered  from  the  careful  state- 
ment in  the  funeral  oration  of  Dr.  Appleton, 
from  which  we  have  already  quoted.  "  To  say 
that  he  was  without  his  foibles  and  failings  would 
be  to  say  more  of  him  than  can  be  said  of  the 
best  of  men.  But  any  of  them  that  were  observ- 
able I  doubt  not  were  owing  in  a  great  measure 
to  that  single  state  in  which  he  lived  all  his  days ; 
which  naturally  begets  in  men  a  contractedness 
with  respect  to  their  own  private  and  personal  con- 
cerns." As  he  uttered  these  words,  how  could 
even  a  Puritan  preacher  refrain  from  regarding 
the  women  of  his  congregation  with  one  auspi- 
cious, and  the  men  with  one  drooping  eye  ? 

However,  we  have  kept  the  reader  too  long 
from  that  most  graphic  description  of  the  Tutor 
contained  in  the  account  of  his  journey  to  Ports- 
mouth, N.  H.     This  was  written   down  at  the 


TUTOR   FLYNT  243 

request  of  John  Adams  by  his  classmate,  David 
Sewall,  who  accompanied  the  old  bachelor  on  his 
trip.  The  affair  was  transacted  in  June,  1754, 
Mr.  Flynt  being  then  eighty  years  of  age  and 
Sewall  nineteen. 

"  He  sent  for  me  to  his  chamber  in  the  old 
Harvard  Hall,  on  Saturday  afternoon,"  wrote 
Sewall ;  "  being  informed  that  I  was  an  excellent 
driver  of  a  chair,  he  wished  to  know  if  I  would 
wait  upon  him.  ...  I  replied  the  proposition 
was  to  me  new  and  unexpected  and  I  wished  for 
a  little  time  to  consider  of  it.  He  replied,  i  Aye, 
prithee,  there  is  no  time  for  consideration ;  I  am 
going  next  Monday  morning.' '  At  Lynn,  their 
first  stopping  place,  "  Mr.  Flynt  had  a  milk 
punch,"  for  it  was  a  warm  forenoon.  By  night- 
fall they  reached  Rowley,  where  they  were  enter- 
tained by  Rev.  Jedediah  Jewett,  who  put  them 
both  in  one  bed,  which  was  all  he  had  unoccupied. 
The  next  day,  Tuesday,  at  old  Hampton,  they 
fell  in  with  parson  Cotton  walking  on  foot  with 
his  wife.  Mr.  Flynt  informed  him  "  that  he 
intended  to  have  called  and  taken  dinner  with 
him,  but  as  he  found  he  was  going  from  home 
he  would  pass  on  and  dine  at  the  public  house. 
Upon  which  says  Mr.  Cotton,  '  We  are  going  to 
dine  upon  an  invitation  with  Dr.  Weeks,  one  of 
my  parishioners  ;  and  (Rev.)  Mr.  Gookin  and 
his  wife  of  North  Hill  are  likewise  invited  to 
dine  there ;   and  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  be 


244    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

as  welcome  as  any  of  us.'     The  invitation  was 
accepted. 

"  After  dinner,  while  Mr.  Flynt  was  enjoying 
his  pipe,  the  wife  of  Dr.  Weeks  introduced  her 
young  child,  about  a  month  old,  and  the  twins  of 
Parson  Gookin's  wife,  infants  of  about  the  same 
age,  under  some  expectation  of  his  blessing  by 
bestowing  something  on  the  mother  of  the  twins 
(as  was  supposed),  although  no  mention  of  that 
expectation  was  made  in  my  hearing ;  but  it  pro- 
duced no  effect  of  the  kind.  After  dinner  we 
passed  through  North  Hampton  to  Greenland ; 
and  after  coming  to  a  small  rise  in  the  road,  hills 
on  the  north  of  Piscataqua  River  appearing  in 
view,  a  conversation  passed  between  us  respect- 
ing: one  of  them  which  he  said  was  Frost  Hill. 
I  said  it  was  Agamenticus,  a  large  hill  in  York. 
We  differed  in  opinion  and  each  adhered  to  his 
own  ideas  of  the  subject.  During  this  conversa- 
tion, while  we  were  descending  gradually  at  a 
moderate  pace,  and  at  a  small  distance  and  in  full 
view  of  Clark's  Tavern,  the  ground  being  a  little 
sandy,  but  free  from  stones  or  obstructions  of 
any  kind,  the  horse  somehow  stumbled  in  so  sud- 
den a  manner,  the  boot  of  the  chair  being  loose 
on  Mr.  Flynt's  side,  threw  Mr.  Flynt  headlong 
from  the  carriage  into  the  road  ;  and  the  stoppage 
being  so  sudden,  had  not  the  boot  been  fastened 
on  my  side,  I  might  probably  have  been  thrown 
out  likewise.     The  horse  sprang  up  quick,  and 


TUTOR  FLYNT  245 

with  some  difficulty  I  so  guided  the  chair  as  to 
prevent  the  wheel  passing  over  him  ;  when  I 
halted  and  jumped  out,  being  apprehensive  from 
the  manner  in  which  the  old  gentleman  was  thrown 
out,  that  it  must  have  broken  his  neck.  Several 
persons  at  the  tavern  noticed  the  occurrence  and 
immediately  came  to  assist  Mr.  Flynt ;  and  after 
rising,  found  him  able  to  walk  to  the  house  ;  and, 
after  washing  his  face  and  head  with  some  water, 
found  the  skin  rubbed  off  his  forehead  in  two  or 
three  places,  —  to  which  a  young  lady,  a  sister 
of  William  Parker,  Jr.,  who  had  come  out  from 
Portsmouth  with  him  and  with  some  others  that 
afternoon,  applied  some  pieces  of  court  plaster. 
After  which  we  had  among  us  two  or  three 
single  bowls  of  lemon  punch,  made  pretty  sweet, 
with  which  we  refreshed  ourselves,  and  became 
very  cheerful.  The  gentlemen  were  John  Wen- 
dell, William  Parker,  Jr.,  and  Nathaniel  Tread- 
well,  a  young  gentleman  who  was  paying  suit  to 
Miss  Parker.  Mr.  Flynt  observed  he  felt  very 
well,  notwithstanding  his  fall  from  the  chair  ; 
and  if  he  had  not  disfigured  himself,  he  did  not 
value  it.  He  would  not  say  the  fault  was  in  the 
driver ;  but  he  rather  thought  he  was  looking  too 
much  on  those  hills" 

The  party  went  on  its  way  towards  Ports- 
mouth. "  The  punch  we  had  partaken  of  was 
pretty  well  charged  with  good  old  spirit,  and 
Father   Flynt  was  very  pleasant   and   sociable. 


246     WHERE  AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

About  a  mile  distant  from  the  town  there  is  a 
road  that  turns  off  at  right  angles  (called  the 
creek  road)  into  town,  into  which  Mr.  Treadwell 
and  Miss  Parker  (who  afterwards  married  Captain 
Adams)  entered  with  their  chair.  Upon  which 
Mr.  Flynt  turned  his  face  to  me  and  said,  '  Aye, 
prithee,  I  do  not  understand  their  motions  ;  but 
the  Scripture  says,  The  way  of  a  man  with  a 
maid  is  very  mysterious.'  " 

On  the  return  journey  Mr.  Flynt  was  destined 
to  hear  again  of  "  Parson  Gookin's  wife's  twins." 
Indeed,  it  would  seem  as  if  a  conspiracy  had  been 
entered  into  by  the  ladies  of  Hampton  to  way- 
lay the  old  bachelor  as  he  wended  homeward 
and  compel  him  to  give  that  silver  blessing.  At 
Hampton  Falls  he  planned  to  dine  with  the  Rev. 
Josiah  Whipple. 

"  But  it  so  happened  the  dinner  was  over,  and 
Mr.  Whipple  had  gone  out  to  visit  a  parishioner, 
but  Madam  Whipple  was  at  home,  and  very  social 
and  pleasant,  and  immediately  had  the  table  laid, 
and  a  loin  of  roasted  veal,  that  was  in  a  manner 
wrhole,  placed  on  it,  upon  which  we  made  an 
agreeable  meal.  After  dinner  Mr.  Flynt  was 
accommodated  with  a  pipe  ;  and  while  enjoying 
it  Mrs.  Whipple  accosted  him  thus :  '  Mr.  Gookin, 
the  worthy  clergyman  of  North  Hill,  has  but  a 
small  parish,  and  a  small  salary,  but  a  consider- 
able family  ;  and  his  wife  has  lately  had  twins.' 
'  Aye,  that  is  no  fault  of  mine,'  says  Mr.  Flynt. 


TUTOR   FLYNT  247 

'  Very  true,  sir,  but  so  it  is.'  And  as  he  was  a 
bachelor,  and  a  gentleman  of  handsome  property, 
she  desired  he  would  give  her  something;  for  Mr. 
Gookin ;  and  she  would  be  the  bearer  of  it,  and 
faithfully  deliver  it  to  him.  To  which  he  replied : 
*  I  don't  know  that  we  bachelors  are  under  an 
obligation  to  maintain  other  folks'  children.'  To 
this  she  assented ;  but  it  was  an  act  of  charity 
she  now  requested  for  a  worthy  person,  and  from 
him  who  was  a  gentleman  of  opulence ;  and  who, 
she  hoped,  would  now  not  neglect  bestowing  it. 
i  Madam,  I  am  from  home  on  a  journey,  and  it 
is  an  unreasonable  time.'  She  was  very  sensible 
of  this ;  but  a  gentleman  of  his  property  did 
not  usually  travel  without  more  money  than  was 
necessary  to  pay  the  immediate  expenses  of  his 
journey,  and  she  hoped  he  could  spare  something 
on  this  occasion.  After  some  pause  he  took  from 
his  pocket  a  silver  dollar  and  gave  her,  saying  it 
was  the  only  Whole  Dollar  he  had  about  him. 
Upon  which  Mrs.  Whipple  thanked  him  and  en- 
gaged she  would  faithfully  soon  deliver  it  to  Mr. 
Gookin  ;  adding  it  was  but  a  short  time  to  Com- 
mencement .  .  .  and  she  hoped  this  was  but  an 
earnest  of  a  larger  donation.  .  .  .  Father  Flynt 
replied,  '  Insatiable  woman,  I  am  almost  sorry  I 
have  given  you  anything.' '  However,  he  fully 
reimbursed  himself  at  the  expense  of  the  next 
minister's  wife  he  met.  In  the  evening-  he 
stopped  at  the  home  of  Rev.  Nathaniel  Rogers  in 


248    WHEBE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

Ipswich,  who  introduced  him  to  his  wife,  where- 
upon Mr.  Flynt  exclaimed,  "  Madam,  I  must  buss 
you  !  "  and  gave  her  a  hearty  kiss.  "  In  the 
morning:  we  had  toast  and  tea.  He  was  interro- 
gated  by  Mrs.  Rogers  whether  he  would  have  the 
tea  strong  or  weak,  that  she  might  accommodate 
it  to  his  liking.  He  replied  that  he  liked  it  strong 
of  the  tea,  strong  of  the  sugar,  and  strong  of  the 
cream  ;  and  it  was  regulated  accordingly." 

The  same  day  the  Tutor  and  his  Boswell  ar- 
rived in  Cambridge,  and  the  journey  was  ended. 

It  was  in  this  year  of  his  journey  that  he 
resigned  his  tutorship.  By  this  time  death  had 
so  changed  affairs  in  the  old  home  in  Braintree 
that  no  harbor  offered  itself  there  in  which  to 
end  his  days.  So,  upon  leaving  his  chambers  in 
the  old  Harvard  Hall,  he  went  to  reside  near  by 
at  the  Widow  Sprague's.  Not  long  after,  he  fell 
sick.  His  wonted  humor,  however,  never  deserted 
him.  John  Adams  records  in  his  diary  (1759) 
that  Mr.  Marsh  (of  Braintree)  says :  "  Father 
Flynt  has  been  very  gay  and  sprightly  this  sick- 
ness. Colonel  Quincy  went  to  see  him  a  Fast 
Day,  and  was,  or  appeared  to  be,  as  he  was  about 
taking  leave  of  the  old  gentleman,  very  much 
affected  ;  the  tears  flowed  very  fast.  '  I  hope,' 
says  he  in  a  voice  of  grief,  '  you  will  excuse  my 
passions.'  '  Aye,  prithee,'  says  the  old  man,  '  I 
don't  care  much  for  you,  nor  your  passions 
neither.'    Morris  said  to  him,  'You  are  going,  sir, 


TUTOR  FLYNT  249 

to  Abraham's  bosom ;  but  I  don't  know  but  I 
shall  reach  there  first.'  '  Ay,  if  you  go  there,  I 
don't  want  to  go.'  " 

In  spite  of  these  comforters,  Tutor  Flynt  lin- 
gered on  till  the  13th  of  February,  1760,  when 
he  passed  away,  in  the  eighty-fifth  year  of  his 
age.  He  had  a  peaceful  ending  and  a  notable 
funeral.  On  the  day  of  interment  a  brief  funeral 
oration  was  delivered  by  James  Lowell,  in  Hol- 
den  Chapel,  "  On  the  Truly  Venerable  Henry 
Flynt ;  "  and  on  the  Sunday  following  a  sermon 
was  preached  in  his  honor  in  the  First  Church, 
by  Mr.  Appleton,  on  "  The  Blessedness  of  a 
Fixed  Heart." 


XI 

PERAMBULATION    OF    QUINCY 

Quincy  is  not  wholly  a  town  of  the  past  in  its 
more  interesting  aspects.  It  is  also  a  city  of  the 
present,  full  of  life,  —  simmering,  indeed,  with 
the  incalculable  and  transforming  energy  of  the 
times.  The  obliterating  march  of  modern  progress 
has  not  spared  scenes  and  homes  dear  to  the 
"  oldest  inhabitant,"  but  many  historic  places 
remain  untouched,  and  what  is  new  is  not  by  any 
means  to  be  ignored.  A  perambulation  of  Quincy, 
revealing  all  this,  will  be  its  own  reward.  Does 
the  antiquarian,  well  satisfied  to  remain  with  the 
picturesque  generations  among  whom  American 
Independence  began,  wish  further  warrant  for 
such  an  undertaking  ?  He  will  find  it  in  the 
example  of  Sir  Walter  Besant,  who  has  "  The 
Perambulation  of  the  City  and  its  Suburbs  "  in 
his  "  Survey  of  London."  The  London  of  the 
New  World  it  was  early  predicted  Quincy  would 
be.  No  less  a  person  than  the  explorer  who  first 
set  his  eyes  upon  this  favored  spot,  Captain  John 
Smith,  wrote  on  his  map  of  the  coast  the  name 
of  England's  greatest  city  all  over  the  region 
now  within  the  bounds  of  Quincy. 


PERAMBULATION   OF   QUINCY  251 

The  anticipation  has  been  fulfilled  in  one 
respect  at  least :  since  1889  Quincy  has  been  a 
city.  The  change  from  a  town  government  was, 
however,  a  doubtful  transaction,  entered  into 
under  the  compulsion  of  a  large  increase  in  pop- 
ulation ;  and  the  returns  from  the  "  consensus 
of  the  competent  "  are  not  so  overwhelming  as 
to  establish  the  wisdom  of  it.  In  the  old  New 
England  town  meeting  every  man  is  conscious 
of  his  sovereignty  and  counts  for  all  he  is  worth, 
and  all  business  and  elections  are  done  above- 
board  and  by  unquestioned  majorities.  Simple, 
direct,  and  democratic,  this  form  of  govern- 
ment is  the  norm  and  ideal  of  free  institutions. 
Nothing  as  good  as  itself  can  be  devised  to  take 
its  place. 

The  town  meeting  in  Quincy  was  always  pre- 
served in  its  original  strength  and  simplicity,  but 
in  the  later  years  of  its  existence  it  came  to  its 
highest  estate.  It  was  held  in  the  granite  Town 
Hall,  which,  unchanged  externally,  still  fronts 
the  training  field  square,  with  its  wide  spaces 
and  massive  Stone  Temple.  To  be  a  freeman  in 
such  an  assembly,  the  equal  of  any,  unfettered 
in  speech  or  vote,  an  observer  of  the  quick  play  of 
thought,  the  wise  deliberation  of  important  ques- 
tions, the  surprises  of  individual  characteristics, 
was  an  exhilaration.  So  citizens  and  statesmen 
were  made ;  and  ladies  were  permitted  to  sit  in 
the  gallery  and  see  the  process. 


252    WHERE  AMERICAN'    INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

Then,  too,  —  an  important  factor,  —  the  mod- 
erator, unanimously  chosen  year  after  year,  was 
John  Quincy  Adams.  His  vigorous  guidance 
of  business,  his  swift  and  wise  decisions,  his  wit, 
his  fairness  toward  all,  his  masterful  retention  of 
long  strings  of  amendments,  his  discomfiture  of 
the  mere  obstructionist,  his  patient  indulgence 
of  the  inexperienced,  was  as  fine  a  bit  of  pre- 
siding as  one  would  wish  to  see.  Early  in  his 
twenty  years'  career  as  moderator  he  was  instru- 
mental in  bringing-  into  the  meetings  a  measure 
of  dignity  and  order  not  known  in  their  previous 
history.  From  time  out  of  mind  the  sovereign 
citizens  of  Quincy  had  stood  about  with  hats  on, 
and  when  not  especially  interested  in  the  item  of 
business  just  then  under  consideration  would  talk 
of  crops  and  candidates.  Mr.  Adams  changed 
all  this.  Seats  were  brought  in,  hats  were  re- 
moved, and  with  George  L.  Gill,  the  perennial 
and  faithful  town  clerk,  at  his  right  hand,  and 
the  chairman  of  the  Committee  of  Fifteen  at  his 
left,  all  was  done  decently  and  in  order. 

That  Committee  of  Fifteen,  appointed  to  ex- 
pedite business,  was  the  nucleus  of  a  characteristic 
group  which  came  to  be  known  as  the  "  Wisdom 
Corner."  Edwin  W.  Marsh,  frequently  chairman 
of  the  committee,  went  into  that  left-hand  cor- 
ner, for  the  reason  that  it  was  easy  there  to  catch 
the  attention  of  the  moderator,  to  face  the  meet- 
ing, and  to  watch  the  course  of  business.    Charles 


PERAMBULATION  OF  QUINCY  253 

F.  Adams,  the  younger,  quickly  discerned  the 
convenience  of  the  situation  and  followed ;  so 
did  John  Quincy  Adams  Field,  William  G.  A. 
Pattee,  George  F.  Pinkham,  Horace  B.  Spear 
(town  treasurer  for  seventeen  years),  Warren  W. 
Adams,  Rupert  F.  Claflin,  Colonel  Aimer  B.  Pack- 
ard, Theophilus  King,  James  H.  Slade,  and  many 
others  who,  if  not  guilty  of  "  indecent  exposure 
of  intellect,"  were  admittedly  qualified  to  sit 
in  the  "  corner."  Its  astuteness  challenged  all 
measures  in  the  interest  of  economy  and  con- 
servative government ;  it  was  almost  a  higher 
chamber  in  the  very  heart  of  a  lower  one. 
"  Though  many  people  spoke  lightly  of  the 
Wisdom  Corner  in  those  days,"  writes  one,  "  I 
believe  that  now,  after  their  experience  with  a 
city  government,  they  would  be  very  glad  to  have 
the  Wisdom  Corner  take  another  turn  at  it." 

Another  institution  of  the  town  meeting  was 
Henry  H.  Faxon,  temperance  agitator,  reformer 
of  politicians,  "  millionaire  policeman,"  public 
benefactor.  Over  forty  times  by  actual  count  he 
is  said  to  have  spoken  at  a  single  session.  He 
required  no  advantage  of  place  or  support  of  fol- 
lowers. "Single  and  alone"  he  was  an  irrepres- 
sible centre  of  explosive  energy,  now  controvert- 
ing the  "  Wisdom  Corner,"  and  now  castigating 
for  its  indifference  the  entire  assembly.  But  his 
severest  critics  admit,  however  reluctantly,  that 
this  "  intemperate  advocate  of  temperance  "  has 


254    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

been  always  on  the  side  of  decency  and  order, 
honesty  and  good  government.  Chiefly  through 
his  efforts  Quincy,  since  1881,  has  been  a  "  no- 
license  town,"  and  it  is  altogether  owing  to  his 
personal  watchfulness  and  persistence  in  prose- 
cuting offenders  that  prohibition  has  not  been  a 
farce,  but  a  fact.  Fearlessly,  in  the  capacity  of 
volunteer  constable  without  pay,  he  has  ventured 
alone,  in  the  night  as  well  as  the  day,  to  ferret 
out  "  rum-sellers  "  in  the  lowest  dens.  Liberally 
he  has  given  time  and  wealth  for  the  furtherance 
of  his  principles,  spending  a  fortune  for  "  the 
cause."  A  characteristic  form  of  his  generosity 
is  to  contribute  annually  to  all  the  Sunday  schools 
in  Quincy  large  amounts  for  the  Christmas  and 
other  entertainments  of  the  children.  He  is  a 
genuine  product  of  the  rugged,  independent  old 
Quincy  settlers  (his  ancestors  were  among  the 
earliest  English  immigrants),  peculiar  in  the  pic- 
turesque Yankee  way,  restless  under  the  ceaseless 
exactions  of  the  New  England  conscience.  He 
is  a  "character,"  who,  besides  his  other  achieve- 
ments, has  certainly  made  the  life  of  his  ancient 
town  more  interesting. 

But  the  town  meeting,  in  which  Mr.  Faxon 
was  seen  at  his  best,  came  to  an  end.  The  Town 
Hall  could  not  hold  the  citizens  for  the  multitude 
of  them,  and  even  the  great  barn  of  a  skating- 
rink  proved  inadequate.  A  new  form  of  govern- 
ment was  imperative,  but  the  change  was  made 


HENRY    H.    FAXON 


PERAMBULATION  OF  QUINCY  255 

with  reluctance.     All  felt  that  it  was  a  critical 
moment  in  the  history  of  the  old  town. 

The  assembly  which  met  in  the  Town  Hall  to 
inaugurate  the  new  government  was  not  large, 
and  lacked  enthusiasm.  Altogether  it  was  a  life- 
less affair,  with  little  to  indicate  the  importance 
of  the  occasion.  Should  it  be  permitted  to  end 
so  ?  The  minister  of  First  Church,  immediately 
upon  the  close  of  the  exercises,  called  out  "  Father 
Flint,"  the  old  white-haired  sexton,  and  directed 
him  to  ring  the  bell  in  the  grand  historic  edifice. 
But  what  should  it  be,  —  a  peal  of  joy  or  tolling 
as  for  the  departed  ?  "  Father  Flint "  was  of  the 
past,  and  plainly  depressed.  Uncertain  what  to 
do,  he  rang  once,  and  then  paused  to  expostulate. 
Urged  to  go  on,  and  assured  that  it  was  all  right, 
he  laboriously  pulled  the  rope  again.  The  bell 
was  tolling,  —  there  was  no  doubt  of  that,  — 
tolling  for  the  passing  of  the  town  of  Quincy, 
for  the  close  of  an  epoch  in  which  it  had  been 
famous  among  the  towns  of  the  Commonwealth. 
A  memory  now  was  that  town  to  be,  —  a  memory 
of  a  life  and  a  time  never  to  be  repeated.  Gone 
were  the  simple  ways  and  the  strength  of  them, 
—  gone  the  quiet,  unhasting  life,  the  unques- 
tioned faith,  the  sturdy  devotion  to  duty;  gone 
the  plain  honesty,  the  humble  romance,  the  high- 
hearted patriotism,  the  rugged  independence,  the 
social  equality,  of  the  town  of  John  Adams  (the 
son  of  a  cordwainer),  and  of  "  Colonel  "  Quincy, 


256    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

and  of  the  Basses  and  Baxters,  the  Savilles  and 
Spears.  And  the  white-haired  sexton  in  his 
feebleness  and  uncertainty  was  tolling  the  bell. 
Plainly  this  would  never  do.  A  young  man, 
Walter  B.  Holden,  stepped  forward  to  relieve 
"  Father  Flint."  Youth  and  optimism  now  rang 
a  vigorous  peal  for  the  new  city  of  Quincy. 
The  plangent  sounds  flooded  the  square  (once 
the  training  field),  stirring  the  hearts  of  the 
people  pouring  from  the  City  Hall,  as  they  had 
quickened  the  pulses  of  their  forefathers  in  the 
victorious  days  when  Independence  was  declared 
and  the  sons  of  Quincy  triumphed  on  the  field  or 
in  the  senate.  They  were  flung  far  and  wide  to 
the  granite  hills,  to  the  shores  of  the  sea,  to  the 
farms,  to  the  shops,  to  the  remote  villages.  They 
chanted  to  the  future  a  defiant  faith  snatched 
from  the  struggling  light  of  these  unintelligible 
days.  They  drowned  in  their  clamor  the  fears 
which  will  arise  from  a  life  transitional  between 
two  worlds,  —  one  parochial  in  its  secluded  and 
changeless  homogeneity,  the  other  cosmopoli- 
tan, and  swayed  by  the  vast  forces  of  inven- 
tive and  competing  globe  exploiters.  Not  too 
desperate  is  the  hope,  they  seemed  to  say,  that 
Quincy  the  city  may  fulfill  a  destiny  as  sublime 
and  beneficent  as  Quincy  the  town. 

The  form  of  government  of  the  city  was  ham- 
mered into  ideal  shape  through  long  winter 
months,  particular  attention  being  given  to  the 


PERAMBULATION  OF  QUINCY  257 

features  of  "  personal  responsibility,"  "  single 
chamber,"  and  other  modern  devices  to  circum- 
vent the  self-seeking  and  the  delinquent.  Charles 
H.  Porter  had  the  honor  to  be  elected  the  first 
mayor.  He  has  been  succeeded  by  Henry  0. 
Fairbanks,  William  A.  Hodges,  Charles  F.  Adams, 
2d,  Russell  A.  Sears,  Harrison  A.  Keith,  John 
0.  Hall,  and  Charles  M.  Bryant,  now  (1902)  in 
office.  The  city  is  well  launched  on  a  sea  not 
too  turbulent,  but  just  enough  to  put  to  the  test 
the  virtues  of  its  citizens. 

In  the  perambulation  of  the  city  —  too  long 
delayed  by  unavailing  regrets  over  the  accept- 
ance of  it  —  no  better  place  to  start  from  is 
afforded  than  the  summit  of  Penn's  Hill.  Not 
only  is  it  a  commanding  height  on  one  of  the 
sides  of  the  city,  but  there  the  past  and  the 
present  harmoniously  meet.  On  this  eminence, 
the  17th  of  June,  1896,  the  Adams  Chapter  of 
Quincy  of  the  Daughters  of  the  Revolution  laid 
the  corner-stone  of  a  cairn  to  the  memory  of 
Abigail  Adams.  A  beautiful  day  -with  clear- 
est atmosphere,  the  multitude  which  was  gath- 
ered on  the  granite  ledges  of  the  hill  could  look 
over  the  town  and  across  the  bay  to  where  in 
the  haze  of  the  metropolis  Charlestown  lay,  and 
the  tall  shaft  of  Bunker  Hill  pierced  the  sky. 
From  this  view,  much  like  that  which  fell  upon 
the  eyes  of  Abigail  Adams  so  many  years  before, 
the  assembly  was  called  to  give  its  attention  to 


258     WHERE   AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

the  interesting  exercises  appointed  for  the  day. 
They  were  conducted  by  Mrs.  N.  V.  Titus,  re- 
gent of  the  chapter,  through  whose  efforts  the 
enterprise  had  been  assured  and  all  arrange- 
ments for  the  ceremonial  perfected.  Addresses 
were  delivered  by  Charles  F.  Adams,  2d,  then 
mayor  of  Quincy,  Edwin  W.  Marsh,  Charles  F. 
Adams,  the  younger,  and  Miss  Elizabeth  Porter 
Gould.  The  corner-stone,  contributed  by  the 
Swithin  Brothers,  is  a  beautiful  block  of  polished 
granite  made  from  a  sleeper  of  the  oldest  railway 
in  the  country,  —  that  built  in  1826  from  the 
Quincy  quarries  to  the  Neponset  River,  for  the 
conveyance  of  stone  to  be  used  in  the  construc- 
tion of  Bunker  Hill  Monument.  At  the  laying 
of  it  Abigail  Adams,  daughter  of  John  Quincy 
Adams,  presided  with  silver  trowel ;  and  when 
she  had  accomplished  her  part,  various  patriotic 
societies  and  individuals  contributed  stones,  prized 
for  their  associations,  which  were  built  into  the 
cairn  till  it  reached  its  monumental  proportions. 
Colonel  E.  S.  Barrett,  President  of  the  Sons  of 
the  American  Revolution,  brought  a  stone  from 
the  Concord  battlefield,  Mrs.  Abbie  B.  Eastman 
brought  one  from  Lexington  battlefield,  John  H. 
Means,  a  connection  of  Samuel  Adams,  brought 
one  from  Dorchester  Heights,  Hon.  James  Hum- 
phrey brought  one  from  the  home  of  Abigail 
Adams  in  Weymouth,  and  so  did  Rev.  Robert 
R.  Kendall,  the  present  successor  of  Rev.  William 


ABIGAIL   ADAMS    CAIRN 


BIRTHPLACE  OF  PRESIDENT  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS 


PERAMBULATION   OF  QUINCY  259 

Smith,  Abigail's  father.  Then  there  were  con- 
tributions from  the  foot  of  the  Washington  Elm 
by  George  Eastman  of  Cambridge,  and  from 
North  Bridge,  Salem,  by  Miss  Helen  Philbrick, 
and  from  historic  Hull  by  Miss  Floretta  Vining, 
and  thus  one  after  another  these  memorial  stones 
were  wrought  into  a  structure  unique  among  the 
monuments  of  the  country.  A  beautiful  bronze 
tablet  with  the  following  inscription  was  given 
by  Charles  F.  Adams,  the  younger  :  — 

"  From  this  spot,  with  her  son  John  Quincy 
Adams,  then  a  boy  of  seven  by  her  side,  Abigail 
Adams  watched  the  smoke  of  burning  Charles- 
town  while  listening  to  the  guns  of  Bunker  Hill, 
Saturday,  June  17,  1775." 

Little  more  than  a  stone's  throw  eastward 
from  the  summit  of  Penn's  Hill  is  one  of  the 
more  picturesque  quarries  of  Quincy,  the  large 
crater-like  cavity  of  the  pink  granite  quarry, 
memorable  to  the  writer  and  many  others  as  the 
scene  of  the  labors  of  one  of  Quincy' s  former 
residents,  George  B.  Wendell.  He  was  of  the 
famous  Wendell  stock,  a  sea  captain  and  son  of 
Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  who  in  his  later  years  re- 
strained his  adventurous  spirits  to  forsake  the 
free  world  of  the  great  waters  and  the  rule  of 
the  quarter-deck  to  "  boss  "  a  quarry  gang  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth.  As  true  a  man  as  ever 
breathed,  was  the  universal  acclaim  when  he 
passed  away,  —  one  whose  life  deepened  faith  in 
humanity. 


260    WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

From  the  side  of  the  hill  in  the  neighborhood 
of  this  quarry  one  can  look  down  into  Wey- 
mouth Fore  River,  the  salt-water  inlet  which 
separates  Weymouth  and  Quincy.  Here  are  sit- 
uated the  extensive  Fore  River  Ship  and  En- 
gine Company's  Works,  where  battle-ships  and 
torpedo-boats  are  built  with  all  modern  celer- 
ity and  skill,  and  where  was  recently  launched 
the  seven-masted  schooner  Thomas  W.  Lawson. 
What  astounding  fulfillment  is  this  of  predic- 
tions made  by  John  Adams  and  others  that  the 
Quincy  seaboard,  so  convenient  for  ship-build- 
ing, would  some  day  be  the  scene  of  a  great 
development  of  this  industry  !  The  first  vessel 
built  in  Quincy  was  launched  from  ways  on  a 
creek  now  included  within  the  Fore  River  Com- 
pany's plant,  but  the  point  near  Germantown 
has  been  the  location  most  prized.  Here  was 
Deacon  Thomas's  shipyard,  where  in  the  old 
day,  a  marvel  for  size,  an  800-ton  vessel  was 
constructed.  John  Souther,  too,  had  a  ship- 
yard at  what  is  now  known  as  Johnson's  wharf, 
on  Town  River  ;  and  Dr.  Woodward  was  so  con- 
vinced that  Black's  Creek,  drained  at  every  ebb 
of  tide,  was  a  good  haven  for  vessels  and  their 
making  that  in  his  will  he  invited  especial  atten- 
tion to  the  matter.  But  how  far  beyond  all  that 
was  ever  done  or  dreamed  is  the  development  at 
Fore  River !  It  is  the  largest  element  in  the 
creation  of  the  new  Quincy,  transforming  the 


PERAMBULATION  OF  QUINCY  261 

pretty  roads  and  shores  of  the  Point  into  a  bus- 
tling, "  booming  "  industrial  centre. 

Qnincy  is  said  to  have  a  more  sinuous  and 
deeply  indented  shore  than  any  other  town  or 
city  in  Massachusetts.  Follow  it  round  from 
Fore  River  to  the  Neponset,  Avhich  divides 
Quincy  from  Boston,  and  what  various  scenes 
of  quiet  beauty  meet  the  eye !  Points  of  quite 
human  interest  there  are  also  :  the  magnificent 
electric  light  plant  at  Brackett's  wharf,  where 
Henry  M.  Faxon,  the  manager,  produces  more 
illuminating  power  than  could  be  measured  by 
all  the  spermaceti  candles  made  by  his  Hard  wick 
ancestors  in  the  Germantown  of  the  old  day ; 
the  Sailors'  Snug  Harbor  at  Germantown,  in 
which  Captain  C.  P.  Jayne,  who  has  sailed  the 
seven  seas,  cares  for  the  other  ancient  mariners ; 
the  summer  settlement  at  Hough's  (pronounced 
Hoff's)  Neck,  with  its  fleet  of  yachts  and  its  plea- 
sant clubhouse  ;  Merry-Mount,  the  home  of  Mrs. 
John  Quincy  Adams,  where  hill  and  shore  retain 
unchanged  the  natural  beauty  roistering  Mor- 
ton looked  upon ;  the  National  Sailors'  Home, 
refuge  of  infirm  naval  heroes,  whose  comfort  is 
made  sure  by  Lieutenant  Downes.  So  we  come 
to  Squantum,  romantic  and  historic,  whose  cliffs 
look  upon  old  Dorchest2r  Bay  and  Boston.  Here 
Myles  Standish  and  a  party  from  Plymouth  — 
piloted  by  Squanto,  the  faithful  friend  of  the 
white  man  —  landed,  September  30,  1621.     In 


202     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

commemoration  of  this  fact  a  cairn  has  been 
built  on  the  highest  part  of  the  stone  ridge, 
which  on  the  east  dips  to  the  sea  and  on  the 
west  declines  to  "  Massachusetts  Hummock  "  and 
its  meadows.  On  Monday,  September  30,  1895, 
the  corner-stone  was  laid  and  the  services  of 
dedication  celebrated  in  the  presence  of  a  large 
assembly.  Charles  F.  Adams,  the  younger,  de- 
livered the  address  of  the  occasion,  once  more 
showing  his  interest  in  the  historic  places  of 
Quincy.  He  described  the  voyaging  of  Myles 
Standish  and  his  men  from  Plymouth,  and  did 
not  fail  to  pay  a  fine  tribute  to  Squanto,  for 
whom  Squantum  is  named.  Mrs.  William  Lee, 
Eegent  of  the  Daughters  of  the  Revolution  of 
Massachusetts,  also  made  an  address,  and  she 
and  Mr.  Adams  laid  the  corner-stone.  The 
Quincy  Historical  Society  and  the  Bostonia  So- 
ciety participated  in  the  exercises,  and  were 
represented  by  many  members.  The  leading 
spirit  of  the  occasion,  however,  was  Mrs.  N.  V. 
Titus,  who  presided,  gave  the  address  of  welcome, 
and  entertained  the  guests  at  her  home  near  by. 
Indeed,  it  was  entirely  owing  to  her  interest  in 
the  historic  places  of  her  picturesque  neighbor- 
hood that  the  enterprise  was  conceived  and  car- 
ried out. 

Standing  by  the  cairn  one  may  not  only  enjoy 
a  good  view  of  Boston  harbor,  gemmed  with  its 
islands,  but  looking  inland  he  sees  the  rugged 


PERAMBULATION   OF   QUINCY  203 

hills  which  from  any  point  along  the  shore  form 
the  background  of  Quincy.  Observing  these 
hills  closely,  he  will  discern  what  appears  to  be 
masts  rising  from  their  summits.  They  are  the 
derricks  of  the  granite  quarries.  Who  has  not 
heard  of  Quincy  granite  ?  At  one  time  thought 
to  be  the  only  stone  Boston  should  use  in  the 
erection  of  its  more  dignified  edifices,  and  now 
considered  to  be  unsurpassed  for  polished  work. 
As  early  as  1749  this  granite  was  utilized,  but 
at  that  date  only  surface  boulders  were  broken 
up  and  wrought  into  shape.  King's  Chapel  in 
Boston  was  built  of  this  material  between  1749 
and  1752,  and  it  was  thought  to  be  so  limited  in 
quantity  that  the  town  became  alarmed,  and  by 
vote  forbade  its  further  removal  until  otherwise 
ordered.  Later,  however,  enough  was  secured 
to  construct  the  famous  old  Hancock  mansion  on 
Beacon  Hill.  "  The  difficulty  seems  to  have 
been,"  writes  Mr.  Adams  in  his  "  Three  Epi- 
sodes," "  that,  with  the  tools  then  in  use,  they 
were  unable  to  work  into  the  rock.  The  Kind's 
Chapel  stone,  it  is  said,  was  broken  into  a  degree 
of  shape  by  letting  iron  balls  fall  upon  the  heated 
blocks.  At  last,  upon  one  memorable  Sunday  in 
1803,  there  appeared  at  Newcomb's  Tavern,  in 
the  centre  of  the  North  Precinct,  three  men,  who 
called  for  a  dinner  with  which  to  celebrate  a  feat 
they  had  just  successfully  performed.  The  fear 
of  the  tithingman  not  restraining  them,  they  had 


264    WHERE    AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

that  day  split  a  large  stone  by  the  use  of  wedges. 
Their  names  were  Josiah  Bemis,  George  Stearns, 
and  Michael  Wild.  It  was  indeed  a  notable 
event,  for  the  crust  of  the  syenite  hills  was 
broken."  Later  Solomon  Willard  and  Gridley 
Bryant,  two  remarkable  men,  greatly  advanced 
the  industry.  Bunker  Hill  Monument  was  to  be 
built,  —  an  immense  contract.  They  were  stim- 
ulated to  invent  new  methods.  "  While  Willard 
laid  open  the  quarry  and  devised  the  drills,  the 
derricks,  and  the  shops,  Bryant  was  building  a 
railway.  This  famous  structure  marked  an  epoch, 
not  only  in  the  history  of  Quincy,  but  in  that  of 
the  United  States ;  and  in  every  school  history 
it  is  mentioned  as  the  most  noticeable  event  dur- 
ing the  administration  of  the  younger  Adams." 
On  this  first  railway  of  the  United  States,  operated 
by  horse  power,  the  first  cars  were  run  October 
7,  1826.  From  quarry  to  tide-water  the  stone 
was  carried,  not  only  for  Bunker  Hill  Monument, 
but  for  Minot  Ledge  Lighthouse  and  many  a  nota- 
ble structure  beside.  The  railway  was  demolished 
years  ago,  its  roadbed  bought  and  utilized  by  the 
Old  Colony  system  ;  but  the  quarry  still  produces 
abundance  of  granite,  and  the  "  Granite  Railway 
Company  "  still  conducts  an  increasing  business, 
laying  modern  rails  to  yet  other  ledges.  Luther 
S.  Anderson,  son  of  the  schoolmaster  so  well 
known  in  Boston  a  decade  ago,  Luther  W.  An- 
derson, is  its  enterprising  manager. 


PERAMBULATION   OF   QUINCY  265 

Numberless  are  the  other  quarries  which  have 
been  opened  in  these  granite  hills.  Great  eleva- 
tions are  being  leveled,  and  the  very  "  roots  of 
the  mountains  "  are  being  torn  out,  but  the  sup- 
ply is  inexhaustible.  Stone  sheds  for  the  ham- 
mering and  polishing  of  the  obdurate  material 
have  multiplied,  so  that  within  the  last  twenty 
years  these  and  the  houses  of  the  workmen  have 
quite  altered  the  face  of  the  country.  New  vil- 
lages have  sprung  up  in  the  meadows,  and  the 
rugged  hillsides  have  been  sprinkled  over  with 
habitations. 

Through  industry  and  enterprise  of  a  high 
order  were  the  quarries  developed  and  the  shap- 
ing and  handling  of  the  stone  brought  to  their 
present  perfection.  Little  enough,  it  is  some- 
times thought,  has  this  advantaged  Quincy.  It 
has  fatefully  changed  the  character  of  the  com- 
munity,  making  it  more  of  an  industrial  centre. 
This  may  well  disturb  those  who  love  the  old 
scenes  and  the  old  ways,  and  who  looked  for 
a  different  development.  All  the  cosmopolitan 
camaraderie  he  may  assume  is  hardly  sufficient  to 
reconcile  the  ordinary  native  to  the  disappearance 
of  "  neighbors  "  in  the  "  foreign  invasion,"  the 
multiplication  of  unpronounceable  names  on  the 
voting  lists,  and  the  consequent  increase  of  taxa- 
tion for  the  additional  number  of  schoolhouses 
needed  to  educate  the  abundant  progeny  of  the 
unsophisticated  or  improvident  proletariat  from 


266     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

over  the  water.  But  this  is  the  condition  of 
things  which  most  communities  in  this  land  of 
liberty  and  of  "  unparalleled  prosperity  "  have 
to  face.  It  may  be  that  if  we  are  chary  neither 
of  our  sympathy  nor  of  our  honesty,  what  is  best 
in  those  escaping  from  the  ancient  wrongs  of  the 
Old  World  will  rise  up  to  meet  us.  Swedes  and 
Norwegians  are  now  swelling  the  invasion.  Who 
will  deny  that  they  possess  sterling  virtues  in 
large  measure  ?  And  the  thrifty  Scot  "  from 
Aberdeen  awa'  "  has  already  made  his  religious- 
ness and  ethical  persistence  felt. 

Whatever  the  effect  of  the  quarries  upon 
Quincy's  future,  this  at  least  is  to  be  said :  that 
we  have  in  the  men  who  have  had  most  to  do 
with  the  development  of  them  persons  who  would 
add  to  the  strength  of  any  community.  From 
the  earliest  times  they  had  in  a  marked  degree  the 
intelligence  needed  to  extend  their  business  to 
about  all  the  large  cities  and  towns  of  the  coun- 
try, and  the  virtues  which  go  to  the  making  of 
good  citizens.  There  was  Henry  Barker,  eager  for 
all  moral  and  educational  reforms ;  and  Charles 
Henry  Hardwick,  a  true  lover  of  nature  and  syl- 
van sports ;  and  Patrick  McGrath,  the  philoso- 
pher and  friend  of  James  Martineau,  the  great 
English  thinker;  and  honest  Amos  Churchill  and 
ex-Councilman  George  L.  Miller ;  and  besides 
these  many  more,  both  of  the  past  and  the  pre- 
sent, —  the  Wrights,  the  Mitchells,  the  Fields, 


PERAMBULATION  OF  QU1NCY  267 

the  Fallons,  the  Badgers,  the  McDonnells,  and 
Messrs.  Hitchcock,  Wild,  Craig,  Richards,  Mc- 
Gillvray,  Vogel,  Jones,  and  John  Thompson  and 
his  more  famous  son  James. 

Having  fetched  a  compass  round  about  the 
outer  limits  of  the  city  and  caught  a  glimpse  of 
its  far-extending  and  verdure-clad  uplands,  and 
its  sinuous  shores  bathed  by  the  shining  sea,  we 
should  now  be  prepared  to  traverse  the  heart  of 
it.  Let  it  not  be  imagined,  however,  that  we 
are  to  be  led  through  a  man-made  wilderness  of 
brick  and  mortar  and  granite  pavement.  Quincy 
fortunately  retains  still,  even  in  its  populous 
parts,  the  natural  beauty  of  the  New  England 
town.  Its  thoroughfares  are  roads  and  lanes. 
The  old  Centre,  with  its  "  God's  acre  "  asleep  in 
the  greenwood  shade,  its  stately  granite  temple 
of  worship  dominating  the  wide  grass-sown  spaces 
and  broad  highways  which  surround  it,  its  city 
hall  Roman  in  strength  and  severity  of  outline, 
and  its  fountain  with  the  bubbling  water  brim- 
ming its  ample  rim,  is  to  all  appearances  a  village 
square.  The  old  Hancock  Tavern  is  there  yet,  — 
somewhat  changed,  to  be  sure  (its  yard  rilled  up 
with  a  line  of  stores),  but  much  the  same  as  when 
Daniel  Webster,  journeying  to  Marshfield,  used 
to  descend  from  the  mail  coach  to  drink  to  the 
manes  of  the  place  and  to  the  comfort  of  his  own 
majestic  frame.  And  just  across  the  way  is  the 
simple  homestead  of  Henry  H.Faxon,  who  bought 


2G8     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

the  tavern  as  the  only  way  to  circumvent  "  mine 
host,"  who  would  persist  in  dispensing-  liquid 
refreshment.  Mr.  Faxon's  house  is  on  the  coiner 
of  Coddington  Street,  and  opposite  it  is  an  ancient 
landmark,  —  the  little  wooden  cottage  in  which 
since  time  out  of  mind  the  Quincy  Mutual  Fire 
Insurance  Company  has  had  its  offices.  Cramped 
the  officials  find  themselves  in  spite  of  frequent 
extensions ;  but  President  Charles  A.  Howland 
seems  to  consider  that  what  he  has  done  in  the 
way  of  monument-building  to  his  Pilgrim  an- 
cestors is  in  this  line  quite  enough.  He  does 
not  feel  called  upon  to  inspire  the  erection  of  a 
monument  to  his  business.  On  yet  another  side 
of  "  the  Square  "  (it  is  a  triangle)  is  the  Adams 
Block,  built  by  John  Quincy  Adams  a  few  years 
ago.  In  it  is  the  Mount  Wollaston  Bank,  upon 
whose  board  of  directors  Charles  F.  Adams,  the 
elder,  served  for  a  number  of  years. 

All  these  buildings  face  the  old  training  field, 
whose  bounds  (now  obliterated)  the  late  Edward 
H.  Dewson  patiently  searched  out  and  established. 
For  over  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  this  spot 
has  been  the  very  heart  of  the  community,  throb- 
bing with  its  life,  the  pulsations  of  which  have 
been  transmitted  with  renewing  power  to  the  re- 
motest homes.  Originally,  it  is  probable,  it  was 
part  of  the  Coddington  grant,  and  came  by  gift 
or  confiscation  into  the  possession  of  the  town. 
Its  level  greensward  early  invited  the  militia  for 


PERAMBULATION  OF  QUINCY  2G9 

the  wonderful  evolutions  of  training  days,  and 
from  here  the  raw  levies  of  hardy  farmers  went 
forth  to  fight  the  Indians,  the  French,  the  red- 
coats, and  the  Confederates.  What  would  we 
not  give  to  possess  a  "  snap  shot "  of  Colonel 
Quincy  and  Lieutenant  John  Adams  at  the  head 
of  their  picturesque  array  !  Alas,  the  days  of  the 
camera  came  in  as  the  men  and  the  events  worth 
photographing  went  out !  Added  interest  was 
imparted  to  the  training  field  October  8,  1732, 
when  a  new  meeting-house  was  built  upon  it  by 
the  old  First  Society.  To  be  more  correct,  the 
town  built  it,  for  then  the  church  and  the  town 
were  one.  This  was  the  Hancock  meeting-house, 
which  lasted  for  almost  a  hundred  years,  when  it 
was  superseded  by  the  present  Stone  Temple, 
which  was  dedicated  November  12,  1828.  The 
historic  character  of  this  dignified  edifice  becomes 
with  every  passing  year  more  exalted  in  the  pub- 
lic mind.  Already  the  number  of  visitors  who 
wish  to  view  the  interior  has  increased  to  such  an 
extent  as  to  embarrass  the  sexton  and  the  parish 
committee.  The  beautiful  marble  tablets  in  mem- 
ory of  the  Presidents  and  their  wives,  and  the 
sarcophagi  beneath  the  portico  are  certainly  of 
interest  to  the  multitudes  who  in  these  days  are 
increasing  their  knowledge  of  America's  heroic 
generations.  And  recently  Mr.  Edmund  M. 
Wheelwright  of  Boston  has  placed  one  more  ob- 
ject of  interest  in  the  church,  —  a  fine  bronze 


270     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

tablet  in  memory  of  his  sturdy  old  ancestor,  the 
Rev.  John  Wheelwright. 

From  the  training  field  square  roads  branch 
off  in  all  directions.  Near  by  on  Washington 
Street,  which  goes  to  "  the  Point,"  is  to  be  seen 
the  charming  Crane  Memorial  Hall,  which  con- 
tains the  Thomas  Crane  Public  Library  and  the 
library  bequeathed  to  the  town  by  John  Adams. 
Thomas  Crane  came  of  "  pure  old  New  England 
stock,"  bearing  the  Quincy  hall-mark.  In  his 
blood  was  the  strength  of  the  Savils  and  Baxters. 
His  fathers  for  three  generations  back  were  born 
in  Quincy,  but  he  himself  was  born  on  George's 
Island,  in  the  harbor,  on  the  18th  of  October, 
1803.  Not  long  after,  his  parents  returned  to 
the  mainland,  and  in  the  primitive  schools  of 
Quincy  he  received  all  the  pedagogic  training 
destiny  allotted  him.  At  the  age  of  twenty-six, 
as  we  read  in  Mr.  Adams's  admirable  address  at 
the  dedication  of  the  hall,  Thomas  Crane  went 
to  New  York,  a  journeyman  stonecutter,  active, 
self-reliant,  and  ambitious.  Here  he  soon  became 
a  master  workman,  and  eventually  one  of  the 
leading  stone  contractors  of  the  city.  "  During 
nearly  thirty  years  of  as  active  construction  as 
any  great  city  ever  saw,  there  were  few  buildings 
of  magnitude  erected  in  New  York,  in  which 
granite  was  used,  to  which  Thomas  Crane  did 
not  contribute,  and  which  did  not  contribute  to 
him."     His  wealth  rapidly  increased,  and  for  his 


THOMAS    CRANE 


CRANE  MEMORIAL  HALL 


PERAMBULATION   OF  QUINCY  271 

clear,  shrewd  common  sense  and  sterling  honesty 
positions  of  honor  and  trust  were  abundantly 
conferred  upon  him.  Throughout  his  life  he 
retained  a  deep  affection  for  Quincy,  and  after 
his  death  Mrs.  Crane  and  her  two  sons  gave  to 
the  town  the  perfect  bit  of  architecture  named 
in  memory  of  him.  While  she  lived  Mrs.  Crane 
manifested  great  interest  in  the  library,  and  at  her 
death  left  $20,000  to  be  devoted  to  the  care  of 
the  building  and  the  grounds  and  to  the  purchase 
of  works  of  art.  Her  son  Benjamin  Franklin 
Crane  has  also  passed  away,  and  in  his  memory  a 
beautiful  window  has  been  placed  in  the  hall.  The 
other  son,  Albert  Crane,  is  still  living.  His  home 
is  in  Stamford,  Conn. 

Opposite  the  Crane  Memorial  Hall  is  to  be 
erected  the  new  government  building.  It  can- 
not fail  to  add  greatly  to  the  appearance  of  this 
locality  and  to  awaken  anticipations  of  the  de- 
velopments yet  to  be  made  in  the  heart  of  the 
city. 

Along  the  line  of  the  old  Plymouth  road,  now 
called  Hancock  Street,  the  square  seems  to  ex- 
tend itself,  —  so  wide  is  the  thoroughfare,  — 
past  the  new  colonial  building  of  the  Quincy 
Savings  Bank  to  the  imposing  Bethany  Congre- 
gational Church.  Continuing  in  this  direction 
one  comes  to  the  offices  of  the  solid  old  "  Quincy 
Patriot,"  a  newspaper,  not  a  person,  with  a  lin- 
gering aroma  of  village  days  and  colonial  hero- 


272    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE  BEGAN 

worship.  Adjoining  is  the  garden  spot  of  the 
Centre,  the  greenhouses  and  shrubbery  of  Col- 
onel Abner  B.  Packard.  Beyond  is  the  "  Hol- 
low," where  the  town  brook  passes  under  the 
road,  a  place  for  tanneries  in  the  old  days,  but 
greatly  improved  now  by  the  fine  business  blocks 
of  Durgin  and  Merrill  and  Henry  L.  Kincaide, 
and  the  large  brick  Music  Hall.  And  so  we 
come  to  a  place  where  four  roads  meet,  and 
which  might  be  called  Liberty  Tree  Square  ;  for 
here,  as  John  Adams  tells  us,  a  liberty  tree  was 
planted  in  the  fervent  first  days  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. Measures  were  taken  to  guard  its  growth, 
but  if  it  survived  till  independence  was  won,  no 
record  of  that  fact  remains.  Perhaps  it  was 
planted  in  this  spot  because  the  Brackett  Tavern, 
the  house  of  fashionable  resort  in  Revolutionary 
times,  as  W.  S.  Pattee  tells  us  in  his  history, 
stood  prominently  on  one  of  the  corners.  It  is 
there  now,  altered  into  a  commodious  dwelling- 
house,  long  owned  and  occupied  by  John  S.  Wil- 
liams, and  at  present  by  Dr.  John  F.  Welch. 

On  the  opposite  corner  is  the  pretty  stone 
"  Christ  Church,"  the  place  of  worship  of  one  of 
the  oldest  Episcopal  societies  in  New  England. 
It  may  indeed  be  called  the  oldest,  for  King's 
Chapel,  which  preceded  it  by  but  a  few  years, 
has  been  a  Unitarian  church  for  over  a  century. 
As  early  as  1689  there  were  gatherings  of  Church 
of  England  people  in  Braintree  North  Precinct, 


PERAMBULATION  OF  QUINCY  273 

now  Quincy,  and  organization  was  formally  ef- 
fected in  1701.  An  exotic  among  New  England 
Congregational]' sts,  it  had  a  hard  struggle  for  ex- 
istence, in  which  it  displayed  a  persistence  equal 
to  that  which  was  manifested  anywhere  by  its 
opponents.  Not  far  from  Christ  Church,  on  that 
part  of  the  winding  Plymouth  road  which  is  now 
called  School  Street,  is  yet  another  church  which 
commands  attention.  It  is  St.  John's  Catholic 
Church,  the  largest  of  that  faith  in  Quincy  ;  the 
mother  church  it  might  be  called,  as  its  clergy 
have  gone  out  into  other  parts  of  Quincy  and 
established  and  maintained  new  houses  of  wor- 
ship as  they  were  required.  The  oldest  Catholic 
Church  is,  however,  St.  Mary's  at  West  Quincy. 
Across  the  way  from  St.  John's  Church  is  the 
residence  built  by  that  rugged  and  honest  "  forty- 
niner  "  James  Edwards,  on  the  site  of  the 
Cranch  house,  where  lived  the  companion  of  John 
Adams  and  where  the  first  post-office  was  located. 
Later  the  Greenleafs,  who  intermarried  with  the 
Cranches,  made  this  their  home.  From  here  one 
might  continue  his  perambulation  along  the  old 
Plymouth  road  past  the  place  where  Joseph 
Marsh  had  his  school,  to  the  birthplaces  of  the 
Presidents  and  the  old-fashioned  homestead  of 
the  Fields.  The  temptation  is  strong,  however, 
to  linger  for  a  moment  at  the  hospitable  residence 
of  James  H.  Stetson,  so  long  the  home  of  his 
father,  Dr.  James  A.  Stetson. 


274     WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

Dr.  Stetson,  born  in  Braintree  in  1806,  was, 
when  he  died,  in  1880,  not  only  the  oldest  prac- 
titioner in  Norfolk  County,  but  the  last  of  the 
physicians  who,  in  the  old-fashioned  imperious 
way,  attended  to  the  ills  of  the  entire  town.  One 
minister  for  the  cure  of  souls  and  one  doctor  for 
the  cure  of  bodies  was  the  ancient  order  up  to 
his  day.  He  was  the  true  successor  of  Drs.  Wil- 
son and  Savil  and  Phipps  and  Woodward,  as  Mrs. 
A.  E.  Faxon  shows  in  "  A  Brief  Record  of  the 
Physicians  of  Quincy,"  and  wisely  and  kindly 
did  he  reign.  Some  time  before  his  death  the 
increase  of  population  invited  other  physicians 
to  share  his  labors,  and  in  1862  Dr.  John  S. 
Gilbert,  so  skillful,  sympathetic,  and  disinter- 
ested, began  his  long  career.  "  The  beloved  phy- 
sician "  he  was  to  thousands,  a  description  which 
may  well  be  applied  to  about  all  of  the  medical 
gentlemen  who  have  practiced  their  profession  in 
Quincy.  Affectionately  one  recalls  Dr.  Joseph 
Underwood,  manly  and  unselfish,  who  settled 
here  after  his  devoted  services  in  the  war  for  the 
Union,  and  scholarly  Dr.  James  F.  Harlow,  and 
Dr.  James  Morison,  great  of  stature  but  tender 
and  gentle  as  any  woman.  Dr.  John  A.  Gordon, 
still  in  active  performance  of  his  professional 
duties,  came  to  Quincy  from  the  Harvard  Medi- 
cal School  and  the  Boston  Hospital  in  1871. 
Of  all  the  physicians  of  the  city  he  has  been 
here  longest ;   he  is  the  "  Dean  of  the  Faculty." 


JOHN   ALEXANDER   GORDON,   M.  D. 


PERAMBULATION  OF  QUINCY  275 

Notwithstanding  the  exacting  nature  of  a  large 
practice,  he  has  shown  himself  a  model  citizen 
by  lending  his  aid  to  public  improvements  and 
heartily  cooperating  with  Mr.  William  B.  Rice  in 
the  planning  and  establishment  of  the  City  Hos- 
pital. He  does  not  stand  alone,  however,  in  this 
regard  among  his  fellow  physicians.  Dr.  Joseph 
M.  Sheehan,  Braintree  born,  a  Harvard  graduate 
and  student  of  Paris  universities,  has  wisely 
served  the  town  as  chairman  of  the  Board  of 
Health  and  member  of  the  School  Committee. 
With  these  gentlemen  we  cannot  fail  to  mention 
Dr.  S.  M.  Donovan,  the  first  city  physician,  cut 
down  by  death  in  the  prime  of  his  powers,  Dr. 
John  F.  Welch,  Dr.  Frank  S.  Davis,  Dr.  W.  H. 
Record,  Dr.  S.  W.  Garey,  Dr.  Henry  C.  Hallo- 
well,  Dr.  N.  S.  Hunting,  and  Dr.  S.  W.  Ells- 
worth. 

Rising  from  the  centre  of  the  city,  all  its 
streets  and  homes  and  fields,  away  to  the  in- 
dented shore,  spread  out  before  it,  is  Presidents' 
Hill.  A  view  unsurpassed  by  any  to  be  obtained 
in  other  parts  of  the  suburbs  of  Boston  is  to  be 
enjoyed  from  its  summit.  Almost  a  dozen  cities 
and  towns  are  in  sight,  indicated  by  the  steeples 
of  their  churches  or  their  clustered  houses,  all 
set  in  an  ideal  New  England  landscape,  —  the 
rugged  hills  behind  and  the  infinite  expanse  of 
the  changeful  sea  before.  This  is  the  prospect 
the  Presidents  delighted  in,  and  from  his  home, 


27G     WHERE   AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

built  upon  the  very  crown  of  the  gently  sloping 
hill,  Charles  Francis  Adams  the  younger  daily 
rejoiced  in  it.  To  his  sorrow  he  was  forced  to 
abandon  the  charms  of  the  place,  both  those  seen 
with  the  sight  of  the  eyes  and  those  suggested 
by  the  associations  of  centuries,  "  driven  from  a 
home  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  by  the 
steady,  irresistible  advance  of  what  the  world  is 
pleased  to  call  modern  improvements."  Like  an 
exile,  almost,  he  must  feel  in  the  town  of  Lincoln, 
to  which  he  has  removed.  But  his  regret  over 
the  enforced  change  can  hardly  be  keener  than 
that  of  the  older  residents  of  Quincy,  with  whom 
he  was  so  ready  to  labor  for  all  real  improve- 
ments. 

However,  his  broad  acres  have  been  carved 
into  ample  plots  on  curving  roads,  and  fine  homes 
of  the  newer  Quincy  are  now  adorning  the  hill- 
side. Across  the  way  from  Mr.  Adams's  old 
home,  occupied  by  Mr.  Herbert  Lawton,  is  the 
spacious  and  artistic  residence  of  Mr.  William  B. 
Bateman,  and  near  by  are  the  beautiful  places  of 
W.  T.  Babcock,  Herbert  F.  Mclntire,  A.  W.  Par- 
ker, and  W.  E.  Blanchard.  Presidents'  Lane, 
which  is  the  way  John  Adams  used  to  take  morn- 
ing and  evening  to  see  the  sun  in  its  rising  and 
setting,  has  long  been  one  of  the  prettiest  of 
country  roads,  and  on  it  were  built  about  all  the 
houses  which  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  the  hill. 
Parson  Lunt's  house,  now  occupied  by  Judge 


ADAMS   ACADEMY 


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PRESIDENTS'   LANK 


PERAMBULATION   OF   QUINCY  277 

E.  C.  Bumpus,  was  built  there,  and  near  it  for 
years  has  stood  the  pleasant  homestead  of  Jo- 
seph C.  Morse,  a  leading  leather  merchant  of 
Boston,  the  comfortable  early  home  of  Charles 

F.  Adams,  the  younger,  now  the  residence  of 
Edward  H.  Anger,  the  house  of  Professor  Jef- 
frey R.  Brackett,  and  that  of  Mrs.  Lane  and  the 
late  Charles  Marsh.  Now  to  these  have  been 
added  the  modern  villas  of  Hon.  John  Shaw, 
Clarence  Burgin,  and  A.  F.  Schenkelberger. 

By  Dimmock  Street  one  descends  to  Hancock 
Street,  the  part  of  the  old  Plymouth  road  on  the 
Boston  side  of  the  square.  Here  is  situated  the 
Adams  Academy,  on  the  site  of  the  Rev.  John 
Hancock's  parsonage.  It  was  founded  by  John 
Adams,  who  in  1823  conveyed  by  deed  of  gift 
one  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  land,  from  the 
income  of  which  was  to  be  built  the  Stone  Temple, 
and  afterwards  a  building  for  a  school  or  acad- 
emy. "  The  deeds  by  which  this  property  was  con- 
veyed," writes  Josiah  Quincy  in  his  Figures  of  the 
Past,  "  were  executed  at  my  father's  house,  and 
my  name  appears  as  a  witness  to  the  document." 
The  academy  was  built  in  1872.  The  first  master 
was  William  Reynolds  Dimmock,  LL.  D.,  Law- 
rence Professor  of  Greek  in  Williams  College,  a 
schoolmate  and  devoted  friend  of  Bishop  Phillips 
Brooks.  Dr.  Dimmock  threw  himself  with  the  ut- 
most energy  into  the  work  of  the  school,  and  his 
name  attracted  pupils  from  all  over  the  country. 


278     WHERE   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

For  their  accommodation  the  "  Hancock  House  " 
was  hired  and  opened  as  a  boarding-house. 
Dr.  Dimmock's  exertions  entirely  overtaxed  his 
strength,  and  he  died  at  the  early  age  of  forty- 
three,  March  29,  1878.  His  successor  was  Wil- 
liam Everett,  Ph.  D.,  formerly  assistant  profes- 
sor of  Latin  in  Harvard  College.  Dr.  Everett 
retained  the  position  till  1893,  when  he  resigned, 
to  take  his  seat  in  Congress.  He  was  succeeded 
by  Mr.  William  Royall  Tyler  (A.  B.  Harvard 
College,  1874),  who  had  been  connected  with  the 
school  for  nineteen  years.  The  boarding  depart- 
ment was  now  discontinued.  Mr.  Tyler's  ser- 
vice was  short,  and  he  died,  greatly  lamented, 
November  1, 1897,  when  Dr.  William  Everett  was 
reappointed,  who  is  the  present  master. 

In  the  porch  memorial  tablets  are  erected  to 
Dr.  Dimmock  and  Mr.  Tyler.  On  the  outside  of 
the  schoolhouse  is  a  tablet  commemorating  the 
fact  that  on  the  same  spot  stood  the  dwelling 
wherein  was  born  John  Hancock,  who  signed 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  as  president  of 
Congress. 

If  one  were  to  continue  on  the  old  Plymouth 
road,  following  in  the  footsteps  of  John  Quincy 
Adams  when  as  a  boy  he  rode  to  Boston  for 
letters,  he  would  pass  over  one  of  the  plea- 
santest  thoroughfares  in  New  England.  Adams 
Street  has  long  been  considered  the  most  attrac- 
tive of  the  Quincy  streets.     Beginning  at  the 


X    f 

>     o 
H    X 


PERAMBULATION  OF  QUINCY  279 

academy  and  the  home  of  Ex-Mayor  Porter  across 
the  way,  it  runs  past  the  Adams  mansion,  the 
ample  Beale  homestead,  the  new  residence  of 
J.  H.  Emery  and  that  of  the  late  John  C.  Ran- 
dall, an  influential  Boston  merchant  and  lover 
of  letters.  Beyond  are  the  spacious  houses  of 
Thomas  Whicher,  William  B.  Rice,  Mrs.  E.  H. 
Dewson,  Mr.  T.  L.  Sturtevant,  Mr.  H.  L.  Rice,  Mr. 
Timothy  Reed,  Mr.  Theophilus  King,  Mr.  J.  L. 
Faxon,  Mr.  Henry  M.  Faxon,  the  City  Hospital 
high  on  a  hill  away  from  the  road,  and  so  on  to 
the  comfortable  farmhouse  of  William  H.  Eaton 
and  the  Milton  line. 

Pleasant,  indeed,  are  these  roads  and  homes  of 
the  Centre,  but  they  hardly  surpass  those  of 
Wollaston  Heights.  This  region  might  with 
truth  be  called  the  chief  residential  part  of 
Quincy.  The  houses  are  built  on  three  command- 
ing hills,  which  afford  not  only  fine  outlooks 
but  lend  themselves  to  pleasantly  curving  roads. 
The  first  hill  is  supposed  to  be  the  site  of  Ann 
Hutchinson's  farm,  and  a  stone  commemorating 
this  fact  is  placed  on  the  grounds  of  Mr.  Wen- 
dell G.  Corthell.  Appropriate  would  it  have 
been  to  have  named  this  village  Hutchinson 
Heights,  as  Mr.  Adams  suggests.  "  Wollaston 
Heights  "is  not  supported  by  any  associations 
of  the  place,  and  is  too  often  confounded  with  the 
old  Mount  Wollaston,  on  the  shore.  However, 
the  name  has  come  to  be  recognized  as  that  of 


280    WHERE   AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE   BEGAN 

a  place  pleasant  to  dwell  in,  and  will  probably 
abide.  From  tbe  "  Heights "  one  looks  down 
upon  the  broad  plain  of  the  ancient  Massachu- 
setts Fields,  —  historic  ground,  where  the  Rev. 
John  Wilson,  Boston's  earliest  minister,  was 
granted  a  large  allotment  of  land.  He  built 
him  a  house,  the  first  to  be  erected  in  this  neigh- 
borhood, which  he  never  occupied.  Was  the 
liberal  atmosphere  of  the  place  too  bracing  for 
the  leader  of  the  "  legalists "  ?  However  this 
may  be,  his  descendants  lived  in  the  house  for  a 
hundred  years  and  more,  and  it  stood  there,  on 
what  is  still  known  as  the  Taylor  farm,  as  late  as 
1850.  Within  sight  of  it  Colonel  Quincy  built, 
in  1770,  the  later  Quincy  mansion,  and  in  recent 
years  a  companion  home  was  erected  for  Mr.  J.  P. 
Quincy.  A  model  school  for  young  ladies  has 
established  itself  in  this  delightful  situation. 
Here,  also,  the  old  and  the  new  are  intermin- 
gling, a  good  place  in  which  to  end  our  peram- 
bulation of  Quincy.  To  be  sure  the  half  has  not 
been  seen,  —  Norfolk  Downs  and  West  Quincy 
are  quite  left  out,  —  but  the  end  has  been  at- 
tained if  a  clear  picture  has  been  presented  of 
a  city  of  ancient  fame  inspiring  modern  possi- 
bilities. 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Adams,  Abigail,  home  of,  68 ;  edu- 
cation and  marriage,  76 ;  on  Penn's 
Hill,  86;  urges  independence,  89; 
heroism  of,  92 ;  described  by  Pre- 
sident Quincy,  95 ;  death,  102,  125, 
171 ;  cairn,  257. 

Adams,  Abigail,  of  to-day,  145, 258. 

Adams,  Abigail  B.  (Brooks),  mar- 
riage, 125 ;  services  and  character, 
130, 138. 

Adams  Academy,  103, 138. 

Adams,  Brooks,  141, 145. 

Adams,  Cbarles  Francis  (1807-86), 
public  spirit,  75 ;  on  Monroe  Doc- 
trine, 115 ;  character,  122 ;  mar- 
riage, 125 ;  in  Congress,  127 :  min- 
ister to  England,  127-136;  Ala- 
bama Claims,  138  ;  death,  139  ; 
children  of,  141 ;  gift  to  First 
Church,  146. 

Adams,  Charles  Francis  (the 
younger),  cited,  12 ;  describes 
Thomas  Morton,  16 ;  Sir  Christo- 
pher Gardiner,  19;  Antinomian 
controversy,  32  ;  Wheelwright's 
meeting-house,  36  ;  of  the  "  tribe 
of  Joanna,"  47 ;  on  Judge  E.  R. 
Hoar  and  the  "  Widow  Joanna 
Hoar"  scholarship,  57;  on  com- 
pulsory municipal  service,  74; 
Abigail  Adams  on  Penn's  Hill, 
86 ;  England  and  the  Confederacy, 
129 ;  his  public  services,  141-143 ; 
children,  145 ;  Abigail  Adams 
cairn,  258 ;  Myles  Standish  cairn, 
262 ;  granite  industry,  263 ;  Thomas 
Crane,  270 ;  removes  from  Quincy, 
276. 

Adams,  Charles  Francis,  2d,  mayor 
of  Quincy,  145, 257. 

Adams,  Elizabeth  C,  101. 

Adams,  Hannah.  63. 

Adams,  Henry  (d.  1646),  progenitor 
of  John  and  Sam  Adams,  12 ; 
settles  in  Braintree,  27 ;  land 
grant  confirmed,  43,  62 ;  ancestry, 
63,  65. 

Adams,  Lieut.  Henry,  44, 66. 

Adams,  Prof.  Henry,  son  of  C.  F. 
Adams,  141 ;  his  "  History  of  the 
United  States,"  144, 145. 


Adams,  Isaac  Hull,  101. 

Adams,  Deacon  John  (1691-1761), 
father  of  President  John  Adams, 
67 ;  death,  73. 

Adams,  John  (1735-1826),  on  inde- 
pendence, 2, 11,  39,  71 ;  relation  to 
Sam  Adams,  12 ;  ancestry,  63 ;  a 
Puritan,  65 ;  birthplace,  67 ;  mar- 
riage, 7G  ;  on  Writs  of  Assistance, 
78  ;  Stamp  Act,  79 ;  home  life,  81 ; 
defends  Capt.  Preston,  83 ;  ad- 
vanced views  on  independence, 
84,  88;  secures  appointment  of 
Gen.  Geo.  Washington,  87 ;  trium- 
phant advocacy  of  independence, 
89;  minister  to  France,  93;  fur- 
nishes model  of  constitution,  94; 
President,  96 ;  fails  of  reelection, 
97;  last  meeting  with  Lafayette, 
100;  death,  101 ;  last  message  to 
his  fellow-citizens,  104 ;  character, 
106, 136 ;  in  the  household  of  Ed- 
mund Quincy  172,  211 ;  on  Tutor 
Flynt,  231,  243 ;  founds  Adams 
Academy,  103, 277. 

Adams,  John  Quincy  (1767-1848) 
aids  Harvard  College,  60;  de 
scribes  his  grandfather,  67 ;  birth 
place,  68 ;  baptized,  81 ;  on  Penn's 
Hill,  86,  107 ;  character,  93,  106 . 
marriage,  110 ;  author  of  Monroe 
Doctrine,  115 ;  President,  117 
heroic  career  as  Representative 
119 ;  death,  120 ;  how  named,  158. 

Adams,  John  Quincy  (1833-94),  pub 
lie  services  and  character,  140 
141 ;  moderator  of  town  meeting, 
252. 

Adams,  Mrs.  John  Quincy,  42,  261. 

Adams,  John  T.,  author  of  "  Knight 
of  the  Golden  Melice,"  25. 

Adams,  Joseph,  son  of  Henry  the 
immigrant,  66;  marries  Abigail 
Baxter,  67. 

Adams,  Joseph  (2d),  marries,  1688, 
Hannah  Bass,  67. 

Adams,  Louisa  Catherine,  141. 

Adams,  Mary,  daughter  of  C.  F. 
Adams,  141;  marries  Dr.  Henry 
P.  Quincy,  145,  227. 

Adams,  Samuel,  12,  79,  82 ;  radical 


284 


INDEX 


ideas  on  Independence,  84,  04;  at 
Lexington,  itt. 

Adams  Street,  278. 

Adams,  .Judge  Thomas  BoylStOB, 
101,  102. 

Adams,  Warren  W.,  253. 

Adams,  Rev.  Zabdiel,  172. 

Agassiz,  Mrs.  Louis,  58. 

Alabama  claims,  138. 

Alabama,  Confederate  cruiser,  132, 
135. 

Alden,  Ruth,  07. 

Alleyne,  Mary,  186. 

American  people,  praised  by  Lafa- 
yette, (14. 

Andros,  Governor,  6. 

Anderson,  Luther  S.,  204. 

Anderson,  Luther  W.,  204. 

Antinomian  controversy,  32. 

Barker,  Henry,  266. 

Barrett,  Col.  E.  S.,  258. 

Bass,  Hannah,  07. 

Bass,  Deacon  Samuel,  34;  his  nu- 
merous offspring,  150. 

Beale,  Abigail  Adams,  180. 

Beale,  Benjamin,  186. 

Belligerent  rights,  129. 

Bethany  Congregational  Church,  271. 

Besant,  Sir  Walter,  250. 

Black,  Moses,  186. 

Black's  Creek,  200. 

Boston  Massacre,  82. 

Bowdoin,  James,  94. 

Bradford,  Gov.,  describes  Thomas 
Morton,  10 ;  capture  of  Sir  C. 
Gardiner,  22. 

Bradlee,  Rev.  Caleb  Davis,  D.  D.,  of 
Boston,  220. 

Braintree,  cherishes  independence, 
11  j  liberal  movement  in,  37;  in- 
corporated, 43;  named,  60;  town 
meeting  on  Stamp  Act,  79. 

Briant,  Rev.  Lemuel,  liberal  theo- 
logian, 38. 

Bright,  John,  friendly  to  the  Union, 
131. 

Brooks,  Abigail  B.,  marries  Charles 
F.  Adams,  125. 

Brooks,  Peter  Chardon,  125. 

Brown,  A.  K.,  "  John  Hancock,  His 
Book,"  224. 

Bryant,  Charles  M.,  mayor  of 
Quincy,  257. 

Bryant,  Gridley,  constructor  of  first 
railway,  264. 

Bulkeley,  Rev.  Peter,  of  Concord,  00. 

Billiard,  .Tabez,  225. 

Bullock,  Capt,  Confederate  agent, 
133. 

Hunker  Hill,  battle  of,  80,  257;  mon- 
ument, 258,  204. 

Burr,  Aaron  and  Dorothy  Quincy, 
218. 


rSuryinp.pround,     43 ;      monument 
erected    in,   by   lion.    <;.   F.   Hour, 

57 j  deedof  Joanna  Hoar  scholar- 
ship dated  from 
Butler,  Hon.  Peter, occupies  Quincy 

Mansion,  189. 
Byles,  Rev.  Mather,  Boston  wit,  185. 

Cairn,   to   Abigail   Adams,  257;   to 

Myles  Standish,  202. 
Canada,  .1.  (,».  Adams  insists  upon 

its  annexation,  114. 
Canning,  George,  133. 
Catholic  Church,  st.  John's,  273. 
Chamberlain,  Mellen,  on  independ- 
ence, 2. 
Chapel  of  Ease  gathered,  38. 
Charter  of  Massachusetts,  4-0. 
Chesapeake,  fired  upon  by  English 

gunboat,  114. 
Choate,    Rufus,   "the    last   of   the 

Adamses,"  139. 
Christ    Church,     Episcopal,    early 

origin  of,  272. 
Church  gathered  at  "  the  Mount," 

34;   liberal,  38;    cradle  of  inde- 
pendence, 39;  gift  of  J.  Adams 

to  First  Church,  103. 
Churchill,  Amos,  266. 
Civil  service,  upheld  by  J.  Q.  Adams, 

117. 
Claflin,  Rupert  F,  253. 
Clay,  Henry,  112. 
Cleveland,  Pres.,  141. 
Cobden,  Richard,  friendly   to  the 

Union,  131. 
Coddington,  We,  27-30;  church  in 

his   farmhouse,  36 ;    estate  sold, 

45. 
Coddington's  Brook,  43. 
Compulsory   municipal   service   in 

Quincy,  73. 
Corbett,  Alex.,  Jr.,  quoted  on  Moses 

Black,  187. 
Corthell,  W.  G.,  279. 
Cotton,  Mrs.  Bridget,  66. 
Cranch,  C.    P.,    poem    written   for 

First  Church  anniversary,  40. 
Cranch,  Judge,  188,  273. 
Cranch,  Lucy,  188. 
Cranch,  Richard,  40,  75, 158. 
Crane,  Albert,  271. 
Crane,  Benjamin  F.,  271. 
Crane  Memorial  Hall,  143,  270. 
Crane,  Thomas,  granite  contractor 

and  son  of  Quincy,  270. 
Crane,  Mrs.  Thomas,  271. 
Crowninshield,     Fanny    Cadwalla- 

der,  141. 

Dana,  Richard   Henry,   biographv 

of,  143. 
Daughters     of      the     Revolution, 

Adams  Chapter,  69,  257. 


INDEX 


285 


Davis,  Admiral  Charles  Henry,  141. 

Davis,  Evelyn,  141. 

Davis,  Dr.  F.  S.,  275. 

Davis,  Jefferson,  comment  on  iron- 
clads building  for  the  Confeder- 
acy, 133. 

Davis,  Mrs.  Jefferson,  admits  alert- 
ness of  minister  Adams,  130. 

Dawes,  Harrison  J.,  188. 

Decatur,  Commodore,  visits  the 
Quincys,  183. 

Declaration  of  Independence, 
adopted,  91 ;  foundation  of  Mon- 
roe Doctrine,  115. 

Dewson,  Edward  H.,  bounds  the 
training  field,  268. 

Dewson,  Mrs.  E.  H.,  279. 

Dimmock,  Dr.  W.  R.,  277. 

Diplomacy,  American,  136. 

Donnison,  Mrs.  Mary,  178. 

Donnison,  Wm.,  225. 

Donovan,  Dr.  S.  M.  275. 

Dorothy  Q.,  of  to-day,  145,  226; 
Holmes',  148,  164,  198-208;  Han- 
cock's, 148,  171,  172,  175, 191,  208- 
224;  the  first,  158;  daughter  of 
Henry  Quincy,  225;  daughter  of 
Mr.  Upham,  226. 

Dowries,  Lieut,  of  National  Sailors' 
Home,  261. 

Dudley,  Dorothy,  writes  about 
Dorothy  Hancock,  218 ;  describes 
Aaron  Burr,  220. 

Dudley,  Gov.  Thomas,  22. 

Dudley,  Madam,  rides  with  Judge 
Sewall,  155. 

Eastman,  Mrs.  A.  B.,  258. 

Eastman,  George,  259. 

Eaton,  Wm.  H.,  279. 

Education,  the  "Quincy  System," 
143. 

Edwards,  James,  273. 

Edwards,  Rev.  Jonathan,  grand- 
father of  Aaron  Burr,  220. 

Ellsworth,  Dr.  S.  W.,  275. 

Emerson,  R.  W.,  quoted,  31, 116. 

Emery,  J.  H.,  279. 

Endicott,  Gov.,  hews  the  maypole 
at  Merry-Mount,  15, 18. 

England,  sympathy  for  the  Confed- 
eracy, 128  ;  neutrality  laws,  133. 

Episcopal  Church,  planted  early  in 
Quincy.  272. 

Everett,  Dr.  Wm.,  tribute  to  Mrs.  C. 
F.  Adams,  131 ;  master  of  Adams 
Academy,  278. 

Fairbanks,  Rev.  H.  F.,  ancestry  of 

Adams  family,  63. 
Fairbanks,   Henry    O.,   mayor   of 

Quincy,  257. 
Fairfield,  Conn.,  place  of  Hancock's 

marriage,  177, 218. 


Farrar,  Prof.  John,  60. 

Faxon,  Mrs.  Annie  E.,  143,  274. 

Faxon,  Henry  H.,  gives  a  park  to 
Quincy,  146 ;  public  services,  253, 
254 ;  home  of,  267. 

Faxon,  Henry  M.,  261. 

Faxon,  J.  L.,  279. 

Federalists,  113, 114. 

Field,  George  H.,  68,  273. 

Field,  J.  Q.  A.,  253. 

Fifteen,  Committee  of,  252. 

First  Church,  gifts  to,  103, 146. 

Fiske,  John,  cited,  88,  89. 

Flint,  Jacob,  sexton  of  First  Church, 
255. 

Florida,  annexation  of,  115. 

Florida,  Confederate  cruiser,  132. 

Flynt,  Dorothy,  158,  193,  232. 

Flynt,  Rev.  Henry,  48,  55, 60, 150, 159, 
193. 

Flynt,  Tutor  Henry,  in  Quincy  man- 
sion, 163, 197 ;  life  and  character, 
228-249. 

Flynt,  Rev.  Josiah,  158, 194, 232. 

Flynt,  Margery  (Hoar),  158;  death, 
166,  193. 

Fore  River  Ship  and  Engine  Co., 
260. 

Forrest,  the  "  Irish  Infant,"  83. 

Forster,  W.  E.,  131. 

Foster,  J.  W.,  "  Century  of  Ameri- 
can Diplomacy,"  137. 

Fourth  of  July,  91 ;  celebration  in 
Quincy  in  1826, 101. 

Frankland,  Sir  Charles  Henry,  148, 
174, 210. 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  Stamp  Act,  8 
Declaration  of  Independence,  91 
visits  Quincy  mansion,  172,  178 
gift  of  vines,  210. 

Freeman,  Capt.  Isaac,  of  the  Bethel, 
169. 

Free-Soil  party,  127. 

Fruitful  vine,  149. 

Gardiner,  Sir  Christopher,  14, 18-26. 

Garey,  Dr.  G.  W.,  275. 

Gerrard,  Mr.,  on  Sir  Harry  Vane, 
35. 

Gerry,  on  Trumbull's  picture  of  the 
signing  of  the  Declaration,  92. 

Ghent,  treaty  of,  114. 

Ghosts,  in  Quincy  mansion,  187. 

Gilbert,  Dr.  John  H.,  274. 

Gill,  Geo.  L.,  252. 

Gladstone,  Wm.  E.,  prophesies  suc- 
cess of  Confederacy,  130. 

Gordon,  Dr.  John  A.,  274. 

Gorges,  Sir  Ferdinando,  24. 

Gould,  Mrs.  Benjamin Apthorp,  184. 

Gould,  Elizabeth  Porter,  258. 

Granite,  Quincy,  263. 

Granite  Railway  Co..  264. 

Greene,  Mrs.  D.  B.,  i»4. 


286 


INDEX 


Greenleaf,  Daniel,  188. 
Greenleaf,  Elizabeth,  188. 
Greenleaf,  Wm.,  173,  273. 
Grenvilles,  140. 

Grove,  Mary,  companion  of  Sir  C. 
Gardiner,  19,  '21-26. 

Hale,  Dr.  E.  E.,  on  education,  142. 
Half-way  Covenant,  53. 
Hall,  John  0., mayor  of  Quincy,257. 
Hallowell,  Dr.  H.  C,  275. 
Hancock,  "Bishop,"   daughter  of, 

235. 
Hancock,  Rev.  John,  69 ;  describes 

Judge  Quincy,    159;    sermon  on 

Judge  Quincy,  167. 
Hancock,  John,  birth,  69 ;  baptized, 

72;  birthplace,  103,   172,   178,  278; 

courtship  of  Dorothy  Quincy,  213- 

223;  death,  224. 
Hancock,  Madam  Lydia,  177,  213- 

223. 
Hancock  mansion,  215, 262. 
Hancock  parsonage,  172 ;  destroyed 

by  Are,  178;  site  of,  278. 
Hancock,  Thomas,  70. 
II  an  I  wick,  Chas.  H.,  266. 
Hardy,  Thomas,  220. 
Harlow,  Dr.  J.  F.,  275. 
Harod,  Ann,  102. 
Harvard  College,  and  Joanna  Hoar, 

59 ;  Tutor  Flynt  in,  236,  240,  243, 

248. 
Harvard,  John,  59. 
Hatch,  Mary,  180. 
Hawthorne,  N.,  15. 
Hay,  Secretary  of  State,  his  diplo. 

macy,  137. 
Henry,  Patrick,  79,  80, 91. 
Hoar,  Bridget,  marries  Usher,  54. 
Hoar,  Charles,  husband  of  Joanna, 

48,  59. 
Hoar,  Judge  E.  R.,  interest  in  Jo- 
anna   Hoar,    47;    Joanna    Hoar 

scholarship,  57. 
Hoar,  Hon.  Geo.  F.,  ancestry,  48; 

visits  their  English   homes,  51 ; 

erects  monument  in  Quincy,  57, 

193. 
Hoar,    Joanna    (d.    1661),    "great 

mother,"  47 ;  descendants,  48, 194 ; 

death,    56 ;     lives    with    Judith 

Quincy,  56 ;  memorial  to,  57. 
Hoar,   Joanna    (d.    1680),    marries 

Edmund  Quincy,  46;  home  of,  56, 

147 ;  death,  152. 
Hoar,  John,  48,  56, 60. 
Hoar,  Lavina,  61. 
Hoar,   Leonard,   48;    president  of 

Harvard,  53  ;  death,  54,  59, 193. 
Hoar,  Margery,  48,  56,  60,  158,  193, 

195. 
Hobart,  Daniel,  152. 
Holden.  Walter  B.,  256. 


Holmes,  Rev.  Ablel,  166,  206. 

Holmes,  Dr.  O.  W.,  letter  about 
Quincy  mansion,  162 ;  relation  to 
,rDorothy  Q.,"  166,  191;  letter 
about  "Dorothy  Q.,"  198,  204: 
poem,  206 ;  to  Dorothy  Q.  Upham, 
826;  on  Tutor  Flynt,  229. 

Hooker,  Rev.  Thos.,  company  of, 
27,  34,  65. 

Hooper,  Miriam,  marries  Henry  Ad- 
ams. 141. 

Hough's  Neck,  261. 

Howe,  D.  W.,  quoted,  5. 

Howland,  Chas.  A.,  268. 

Hull,  Hannah,  marries  Judge  Sew- 
all,  44. 

Hull,  Isaac,  183. 

Hull,  John,  marries  Judith  Quincy, 
44. 

Hull,  Judith,  death,  46. 

Humphrey,  Hon.  James,  258. 

Hunt,  John,  152. 

Hunt,  Ruth,  152,  156. 

Hunting,  Dr.  N.  S.,  275. 

Huntington,  E.  H.  Mills,  180. 

Hurst,  Ann,  172. 

Hutchinson,  Anne,  33,  37. 

Independence,  American,  1-3 ;  pow- 
er  and  meaning,  9 ;  especially 
cherished  in  Quincy,  11 ;  cradle 
of,  39,  68;  advocated  by  John 
Adams,  39;  anticipated  by  Judge 
Quincy,  40 ;  when  born,  78 ;  inevi- 
table, 84  ;  Sam  Adams  on,  84 ; 
urged  by  Abigail  Adams,  89 ;  tri- 
umphant, 89 ;  Declaration  of,  91 ; 
John  Adams's  last  message  on, 
104. 

Independence  Day,  91 ;  celebration 
in  Quincy,  1826, 101. 

Industrial  combinations  and  inde- 
dence,  10. 

Iron-clads  built  in  England  for  the 
Confederacy,  130. 

Jackson,  Edward,  marries  "  Doro- 
thy Q., "  166 ;  partner  of  Josiah 
Quincy,  168, 185, 206. 

Jackson,  Mary,  186. 

Jayne,  Capt.  C.  P.,  261. 

Jefferson,  Thomas,  3;  no  desire  for 
independence,  88 ;  on  speech  of 
John  Adams,  90 ;  reconciled  to 
John  Adams,  101. 

Jeffreys,  Judge,  condemns  Lady 
Lisle,  50. 

"  Joanna,"  tribe  of,  158. 

Johnson,  Joshua,  109. 

Johnson,  Louisa  Catherine,  marries 
J.  Q.  Adams,  109. 

Keith,  Harrison  A.,  mayor  of 
Quincy,  'J57. 

Kendall,  Rev.  R.,  258. 


INDEX 


287 


Kincaide,  Henry  L.,  272. 
King,  Theopbilus,  143,  253. 
King's  Chapel,  263. 
Kuhu,  Charles,  141. 

Lafayette,  Marquis  de,  praises 
American  people,  64 ;  last  meeting 
with  Pres.  John  Adams,  100. 

Lawsou,  Thomas  W.,  seven-masted 
schooner,  260. 

Lechford,  Thomas,  cited,  32. 

"  Lee  at  Appomattox,"  by  C.  F. 
Adams,  143. 

Lee,  Richard  Henry,  90. 

Lee,  Mrs.  Wm.,  262. 

Lexington,  battle  of,  1,  216, 219. 

Leopard,  English  gunboat,  fires  on 
Chesapeake,  103. 

Library,  Adams,  102, 143 ;  Crane  Me- 
morial, 143. 

Lincoln,  Pres.  Abraham,  birthplace, 
69,  127. 

Lincoln,  Dr.  Bela,  173. 

Lincoln,  Gen.  Benjamin,  173. 

Lisle,  Lady  Alicia,  49-52. 

Lisle,  Bridget,  marries  Leonard 
Hoar,  49 ;  H.  Usher,  54 ;  death, 
55. 

Lisle,  Lord  John,  49. 

Livingston,  Esther,  218. 

Longfellow,  H.  W.,  poem  on  Sir  C. 
Gardiner,  19,  25. 

Lowell,  James,  on  Tutor  Flynt,  249. 

Lowell,  James  B.,  cited,  122, 149. 

Mclntire,  H.  F.,  274. 

McGrath,  Patrick,  266. 

Marsh,  Charles,  276. 

Marsh,  Edwin  W.,  252,  258. 

Marsh,  Joseph,  180, 273. 

Massachusetts,  defends  her  char- 
ter, 6 ;  resists  oppression,  8 ;  origin 
of  name,  28 ;  missed  a  great  de- 
stiny, 37  ;  constitution  of,  94. 

Massachusetts  Fields,  28. 

Massachusetts  Historical  Society, 
57, 143. 

Mather,  Rev.  Cotton,  54. 

Mather,  Increase,  54. 

Mayors  of  Quincy,  257. 

Maypole  erected  at  Merry-Mount, 
16-18. 

Means,  John  H.,  258. 

Meeting-house,  earliest  built  at  "the 
Mount,"  36;  Hancock's,  99;  Stone 
Temple,  103, 151, 154,  269. 

Merry-Mount,  revels,  15-18;  be- 
queathed to  John  Quincy,  42,  261. 

Merry-Mount  Park,  gift  of  C.  F. 
Adams,  the  younger,  146. 

Miller,  Geo.  L.,  266. 

Miller,  Ur.  Ebenezer,  74. 

Monroe  Doctrine,  J.  Q.  Adams  au- 
thor of,  115. 


Morison,  Dr.  James,  274. 

Morse,  John  T.,  Jr.,  cited,  110, 120. 

Morse,  Joseph  C,  277. 

Morton,  Eliza  Susan,  182. 

Morton,  Thos.,  of  Merry-Mount,  15- 

18 ;  quoted,  29. 
Motley,  J.  L.,  15,  25. 
Mount  Wollaston,  14-19, 35. 

National  Sailors'  Home,  261. 

Navy,  TJ.  S.,  inception  of  by  John 
Adams,  97, 141. 

Neutrality  laws,  England's  inter- 
pretation of,  133, 

New  England  farmers,  64 ;  J.  Adams 
a  typical  man  of,  65. 

Newell,  Eunice,  225. 

No  license  in  Quincy,  254. 

Nourse,  H.  S.,  51. 

Ogden,  Mary,  marries  C.  F.  Adams, 

141. 
Otis,  James,  quoted,  4,  78,  82. 

Packard,  Colonel  A.  B.,  253, 272. 
Paine,  Elizabeth,  marries  H.  Ad- 
ams, 44,  66. 
Paine,     Moses,     marries     Judith 

Quincy,  43, 66. 
Paine,  Thomas,  "Common  Sense," 

commended  by  Abigail  Adams, 

89. 
Palmer,  General  Joseph,  178. 
Parker,  A.  W.,  276. 
Parker,  F.  W.,  143. 
Parker,  Captain  John,  at  Lexing- 

ton,  1. 
Parker,   Rev.  Theodore,  on   Pres. 

John  Quincy  Adams,  113, 121. 
"  Patriot,"  the  Quiucy,  271. 
Pattee,  William  G.  A.,  253. 
Pattee,  W.  S.,  272. 
Philbrick,  Helen,  259. 
Phillips,  Wendell,  on  Sir  H.  Vane, 

34. 
Phillips,  Wm.,  181. 
Pinkham,  Geo.  F.,  253. 
Point  Judith,  45. 
Poison,  Mrs.  Wm.  R.,  103. 
Porter,  Chas.  H.,  mayor  of  Quincy, 

257. 
Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  Tutor  Flynt's 

journey  to,  242. 
Presidents'  Hill,  99,  276. 
Purchase,     Thos.,    marries    Mary 

Grove,  25. 

Quarries,  Quincy  granite,  263. 

Quincy,  cherishes  independence,  12 ; 
meeting  place  of  liberals,  37 ; 
named,  98,158;  given  library  by 
John  Adams,  103 ;  other  gifts,  i  :<;  j 
a  city  of  the  present,  250;  town 
meetings,  251 ;  a  city,  251,  255. 


288 


INDEX 


Quincy,  Abby  Phillips,  184. 

Qulncy,  Daniel,  marries  Anna  Shep- 
ard,  162;  a  goldsmith,  166. 

Quincy,  Dorothy,  Hancock's,  13, 
171;  of  to-day,  146, 226;  first,  168; 
Holmes's,  t»"-4  ;  charm  of  the  name, 
191;  account  of  all  the  Dorothys, 
L92-227;  sister  of  Tutor  Flynt, 
232. 

Qulncy,  Edmund  (the  "Immigrant," 

1602-36),  settles  at  "the  Mount," 
27 ;  in  Coddlngton's  farmhouse, 
32 ;  death,  37. 

Quincy,  Edmund  (1627-98),  marries 
Joanna  Hoar,  46,  60 ;  life  of,  147- 
155. 

Quincy,  Judge  Edmund  (1681-1737), 
early  ideas  of  independence,  40; 
life  of,  153-160 ;  builds  extension 
to  Quincy  mansion,  160;  death  and 
funeral,  167 ;  marries  Dorothy 
Flynt,  196;  letters  to  daughter 
Dorothy,  200-202;  builds  L  for 
Tutor  Flynt,  232. 

Quincy, Squire  Edmund  (1703-88),oc- 
cupies  Quincy  mansion,  72;  birth, 
164 ;  Boston  merchant,  168 ;  in 
Quincy,  171 ;  letter  to  Sir  H. 
Frankland,  174;  retreats  to  Lan- 
caster, 213 ;  sells  mansion,  186. 

Quincy,  Edmund,  marries  Ann 
Hurst,  172. 

Quincy,  Edmund,  son  of  Col.  Josiah, 
172,  179. 

Quincy,  Edmund,  of  Dedham,  184. 

Quincy,  Elizabeth  (Wendell),  164, 
177. 

Quincy,  Eliza  Susan,  cited,  40,  46; 
letter  to  Dr.  Holmes,  162 ;  home 
of,  184;  letter  from  Dr.  Holmes, 
204. 

Quincy,  Esther,  daughter  of  Ed- 
mund, 72 ;  marries  Jonathan  Sew- 
all,  173. 

Quincy,  Hannah  (b.  1736),  daughter 
of  Josiah,  72,  172. 

Quincy,  Henry  (1726-80),  marries 
Mary  Salter,  171;  daughter,  178; 
Dorothy,  225. 

Quincy,  Dr.  Henry  P.,  marries  Mary 
Adams,  141,  145,  184,227. 

Quincy,  Joanna  (Hoar),  marriage, 
46,  r>r>. 

Quincy,  John  (b.  1689),  on  church 
committee,  39 ;  Pres.  J.  Q.  Adams 
named  after,  81 ;  Quincy  named 
after,  98;  his  public  services, 
167. 

Quincy,  Col.  Josiah  (1709-84),  72  ; 
marries  Hannah  Sturgis,168;  en- 
riched by  capture  of  Spanish  ship, 
168;    public  services  and  death, 

178. 

Quincy,   Josiah,    Jr.  (1744-75),  pa- 


triotic services,  82,  83, 172;  death, 
181. 

Quincy,  Pres.  Josiah  (1772-1864), 
president  of  Harvard,  60;  de- 
scribes Abigail  Adams,  95;  career, 
isi-183;  cited,  '-•:;:. 

Quincy,  Josiah,  mayor  of  Boston, 
1896-99,  185. 

Quincy,  Josiah,  son  of  Pres.,  b.  1802, 
describes  Hancock's  church,  99; 
public  services,  183;  witnesses 
deed  of  Adams  Academy,  277. 

Quincy,  Josiah  Phillips,  son  of  pre- 
ceding, 184,  280. 

Quincy,  Judith  (d.  1654),  life,  42-47 ; 
settles  in  Braintree,  62. 

Quincy,  Judith  (1626-95),  42;  mar- 
ries John  Hull,  44 ;  Point  Judith 
named  for,  45;  obituary,  46. 

Quincy,  Norton,  93. 

Quincy,  Samuel,  the  Tory,  72,  172, 
176,  179. 

Quincy,  Samuel  M.,  184. 

Quincy,  Sophia  M.,  184. 

Quincy  system,  75, 143. 

Radcliffe    College,    Joanna    Hoar 

scholarship,  58. 
Radcliffe,  Lady,  59. 
Railway,  oldest,  258. 
Randall,  John  C  278. 
Reed,  Timothy,  279. 
Religion,  liberal,  espoused  by  Vane, 

35;  defeated  by  "legalists,"  36; 

toleration  in,  advocated  by  Col. 

John   Quincy,   39;   by    Leonard 

Hoar,  53. 
Republican  party,  origin,  127. 
Rice,  Harry  L.,  279. 
Rice,  Wm.  B.,  gift  of  City  Hospital, 

146 ;  residence,  279. 
Russell,  Earl,  130, 134. 

Salter,  Mary,  marries  H.  Quincy, 
171,  225. 

Salsbury,  193. 

Savage,  Ephraim,  152. 

Savil,  Dr.  Klisha,  71,  74. 

Savil,  William,  152. 

Schenkelberger,  A.  F.,  277. 

Scott,  Captain  James,  marries 
Dorothy  Hancock,  224. 

Sears,  Russell  A,  mayor,  257. 

Sewall,  David,  companion  of  Tutor 
Flynt,  243. 

Sewall,  Jonathan,  72, 173 ;  a  Tory, 
176. 

Sewall,  Judge  Samuel,  marries 
Hannah  Hull,  44;  account  of  fu- 
neral of  Bridget  (Hoar)  Usher, 
65  ;  Daniel  Quincy's  marriage, 
152;  lodges  in  Quincy  mansion. 
163;  disputes  with  Tutor  Flynt, 
240. 


INDEX 


289 


Sewall,  Samuel,  173. 

Shaw,  John,  '277. 

Sbeeban,  Dr.  J.  M.,275. 

Shipyards,  -260. 

Slaae,  James  II.,  253. 

Slavery,  opposed  by  J.  Q.  Adams, 

lis.  " 
Slaves  in  Quincy,  154. 
Smith,    Abigail,      marries     John 

Adams,  76. 158. 
Smith,  II.  W.  102. 
Smith,  Captain  John,  28,  250. 
Smith,     Mary,     marries     Richard 

Grancb,  75. 
Smith,  Sarah,  102. 
Smith,  Rev.  William,  75,  76, 158. 
Souther,  John,  260. 
Spanish    treasure    ship,  captured, 
160. 

Spear,  Horace  B.,  253. 

Spoils   system,   opposed   by  J.  Q. 
Adams,  117. 

Squanto,  friendly  Indian,  261. 

Squantum,  cairn  to    Myles  Stand- 
ish,  261. 

Standish,    Myles,    15;   at    Merry- 
Mount,  17  ;  memorial  cairn,  201. 

Stedman,  Dr.  John,  225. 

Stetson,  Dr.  James  A.,  274. 

Stetson,  James  H.,  273. 

Stockton,  Richard,  90. 

Stoddard,  Simeon,  55. 

Storer,  Hannah,  170. 

Stuart,  Queen  Mary,  165. 

Sturgis,  Hannah,  168. 

Sturtevant,  T.  L.,  279. 

Swithin  Bros.,  258. 

Talleyrand,  Charles  M.  de,  136. 
Tavern,  Hancock,  207;  Brackett's, 

272. 
Taxation  without  representation,  7. 
Teapot,  of  Tutor  Flynt,  206, 230. 
Thomas,  Deacon,  260. 
Thompson,  Benjamin,  155. 
Thompson,  James,  267. 
Titus,  Mrs.  N.  V.,  258,  262. 
Town  meetings,  3 ;  in  Quincy,  251. 
Training  Field,  251,  2G8. 
Trumbull's  painting  of  the  signing 

of  the  Declaration,  91. 
Tyler,    Wm.    Royall,    master     of 

Adams  Academy.  278. 
Tyng,  Capt.  John,  buys  Coddington 

estate  42. 
Upham.'Dorothy  Q.,  220. 


Upham,  O.  W.  H.,  226. 
Usher,  Bridget,  54,  55,  150. 

Vane,  Sir  Harry,  the  older,  35. 
Vane,  sir  Barry,  In  Coddington's 

bouse,  32 ;  liberal  leader,  35 ;  goes 

to  England,  37.  . 

\  assail,  Leonard,  98. 
Vining,  Floretta,  259. 
Virginia,  instructs  representatives, 
79,  89,  90. 

Wales,  Mrs.  Wm.,  quoted,  224. 
Warren,  Dr.  Joseph,  B2, 87. 

Washington,  Pres.  George,  birth- 
place, 69  ;  appointment  as  general 
secured  by  J.  Adams,  87;  praises 
J.  Q.  Adams,  110. 

Waterston,  Mrs.  R.,  184. 

Webster,  Daniel,  125,267. 

Weddings,  golden,  of  John,  John 
Quincy,  and  C.  F.  Adams,  99,  138. 

Welch,  i>r.  John  !•'..  272. 

Wendell,  Klizal.eth,  164,  177. 

Wendell.  Ceo.  B.,  250. 

Wendell,  John,  40, 104. 

Wendell,  Judge  Oliver,  166, 186,206. 

Wheelwright,  Edmund  M.,  269. 

Wheelwright,  Rev.  John,  in  Cod- 
dington's farmhouse,  32 ;  preaches 
at  "  the  Mount,"  35 ;  builds  meet- 
ing-honse,  36  ;  banished,  37  ;  me- 
morial tablet,  267. 

Whicher,  Thos.,  270. 

Whitefield,  Rev.  Geo..  241. 

Whitney,  Mrs.  Abigail,  103, 130. 

Whitney,  Capt.  John,  104. 

Whittier,  John  G.,  25,  221. 

Wibird,  Rev.  A.,  71,  81,  158,  172. 

Willard,  Solomon,  264. 

Willet,  Esther,  marries  Josiah 
Flynt.  105, 232. 

Willet,  Capt.  Thomas,  mayor  of 
New  York,  105,  232. 

Wilson,  Rev.  D.  M.,  100. 

Wilson,  Rev.  John,  33,  34;  legalist 
leader,  36,  280. 

Winthrop,  Gov.,  quoted, 3 ;  on  Mass. 
charter,  5 ;  Sir  Christopher  Gardi- 
ner, 23,  44. 

"  Wisdom  Corner  "  in  town  meeting, 

Woodward,  Dr.  E.,  146, 188,  260. 
Woodward  Institute,  180. 
Wollaston,  Capt.,  15. 
Wollaston  Heights,  279. 


Cbc  fliiicrjffibe  prc^tf 

Electroty/>ed  a>ui pritited  by  //.  O.  Houghton  &*  Co. 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


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